Ambiguity
by Ms Towa
Summary: Leon doesn't remember anything about his childhood before being adopted by his godfather, but he doesn't really mind. He has a nice family, chill friends, and transfer student Emil who might be or might not be his boyfriend. That being said, he could probably deal with the nightmares that have been haunting him for, like, ten years now. Probably.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Little Lion Man**

Three firm knocks rapped against the wooden surface of the door before the musician waited patiently. He had left behind his band-mates knowing that they most likely wouldn't want to see the face of his ex-lover ever again, believing her to be the Yoko Ono that had almost torn apart their band, but Arthur and Chun-Yan had broken up on friendly terms. Reluctantly, Mathias and Gilbert gradually began to accept their friendship as well. Slowly, Chun-Yan was beginning to repair their broken friendships after having broken Arthur's heart by not being able to stand against her traditionalist, conservative father. Blocking out all of the background noise, he trained his hearing on the rushed footsteps stumbling over miscellaneous pieces of furniture and other household items or maybe even children's toys. Even though Chun-Yan had yet to give birth, she was more than ecstatic about pampering her boy the right amount.

Finally, the door opened to the size of a thin crack through which a single brown eye peered, focusing its sight on the blond haired man standing outside her door. Upon recognising her guest, the door opened wider, revealing her slender frame with a rounded stomach and her deep auburn hair that Arthur had always loved, and the Chinese woman smiled warmly at her friend. "You're looking better than last time I saw you. Your hair's not that ridiculous red from five years back—or that hideous neon, lime green."

"You hurt me with your kind words, love," he replied light-heartedly.

Laughing, she told the blond, "I'll go prepare the tea." Stepping aside, she allowed him entrance to her apartment flat. Arthur settled down at the white leather couch, curiously studying her quaint living room, before she finally joined him with a tray of two mugs filled with oolong tea. She took a seat next to him and commented, "My father disowned me."

"I don't think I will ever understand your father," was all that Arthur said in response. It was all that Arthur could say on the matter, and Chun-Yan didn't berate him at all for doing so.

Wang Zhao was a musician who focused solely on traditional Chinese instruments and believed that Western music was the devil's way of corrupting all that was right in the world. When Chun-Yan took a course over modern, contemporary music, she was exiled from his home and lived with her uncle, Wang Yao, while he was still in mainland China. A few years later, when she made a début as China's pop diva, her father claimed no relation to her. When she had decided to date Arthur, he had protested loudly and forced them to break up—not at all supportive of an interracial relationship. Recently, she had eloped to Hong Kong with her newest lover and, now, husband. Wang Zhao, who viewed Hong Kong as some kind of abomination as a result of British influence, had refused to accept their relationship and their marriage. It didn't surprise anyone when he disinherited Chun-Yan, but that didn't make the matter hurt any less.

Before she replied to him, Li Chun-Yan kept her brown eyes trained on the steam floating from her mug. "Promise me one thing, Arthur," she responded in a cracked voice, her English tinged with a light Chinese accent. "Promise me that you'll protect my son in the worst case scenario. I have no family left because my uncle's disappeared somewhere to conduct his business, and my husband's parents have already passed away. He has no siblings, and neither do I. I cannot do anything for him if... if something happens to me and his father. He's my only son; it's not healthy for me to have any more children after him."

Arthur raised a thick eyebrow and questioned softly, "Why are you asking me this? I'm your ex-boyfriend, you know?"

"You have sons, too, do you not—with the French soprano, Marianne Bonnefoy?"

"Two of them," Arthur answered shortly. "They're around a year older than your boy; he's due in late June and early July, right?"

She laughed at him and hid her smile behind the rim of her mug. "See, he's not even your child, but you know when he'll come into this world," Chun-Yan remarked playfully. After sipping her tea, she added, "You're a good man, Arthur. I know you are—despite appearances. That's how you've managed to attract high-class girls like Marianne. My husband knows that, too. He's perfectly acceptable with this arrangement; actually, he's more than happy that the punk musician and political and social activist, Arthur Kirkland, would be the godfather to his only son. He knows what you stand for, and he knows the emotions behind the songs you write."

"Your husband is a wonderful composer and pianist, by the way," Arthur complimented with an amicable smile. "I don't know a pianist who's able to move me more than Li Xiao-Fan."

She nudged him lightly in the ribs. "Thank you," she replied shortly, wearing that wry smile on her lips. "He's at a production studio right now, working on a music score for a film."

"You'll certainly invite me to the première."

"You, Marianne, and your boys, of course." Clearing her throat, she redirected the conversation back to its proper route. "You're a family man, Arthur, and you have such loyal friends. I wouldn't imagine anyone else to be the godfather of my son."

"What's his name?"

"Li Xiao Chun," she answered sheepishly with a hint of a blush on her cheeks. "Xiao from Xiao-Fan and Chun from Chun-Yan."

"That's cute. Marianne just named our children Alfred and Matthew because, and I quote, she gave birth to them."

The two of them shared a moment of laughter.

"Your concert is tonight, right?"

"Hong Kong is one of the last stops on our world tour, I'm afraid." He smiled glumly. "Music is still an essential part of my life. I want to share that with my children, my family, and my friends, but with twins and an exhausted wife, I can't keep dragging her across the globe." He chuckled. "Although our band is breaking up, Gilbert and Mathias are relocating to New York with me. Can you imagine that?"

"Well, you three are quite close—you Hopeless Brothers."

* * *

He hadn't even thought of having to fulfil his promise to Chun-Yan seven years later. It was all too soon.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland," he told the woman at the front desk in his slur of Mandarin and English. It wasn't that his Mandarin was poor; Chun-Yan had made sure of that when they were dating. At the thought of his dear friend, who had passed away in a car accident with her husband, his heart lurched in his chest uncomfortably. Fortunately, the secretary spoke English quite fluently, and if his mind hadn't been in such disarray, he would have realised that she often had to deal with foreigners who were more than willing to adopt their children. "I'm the godfather of one of the children you're housing here, Li Xiao Chun."

Her eyes widened in recognition, and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing that her eyes glazed over with pity. "Yes," she confirmed, "Li Xiao Chun is here. I can show you to him, but there is something you must know."

"What?" he demanded immediately. Was he hurt? He didn't receive any notice about his godson's injuries. In fact, he was only notified _three_ days after the accident, and it was only the day after that the news about the couple was released. The news raged across the Asian continent like a wild storm that barely managed to touch the rest of the world. Chun-Yan and her husband were more popular among the Asian audiences, after all, and he was exasperated that it had taken them so long to let _him_ know—one of Chun-Yan and Xiao-Fan's closest friends. "What happened to Xiao Chun?"

She gestured for the Englishman to follow after her, and Arthur was hot on her tail, allowing her to lead the way through the halls. "You see, Li Xiao Chun was in the back seat when the accident occurred. A drunk driver rammed the front of the car, but Li Xiao Chun only suffered minor injuries. However, his name brings great pain and memories of his parents." That was to be expected since they wrote their son's name using the characters and pronunciation from their names. "He doesn't like answering to Xiao Chun any more, but we can't see to get his attention any other way than calling him 'you' or 'little boy' in either Mandarin or Cantonese." Arthur's step faltered when his green eyes fell upon a dark haired child dressed in a burgundy _duanghua_ and dark trousers.

"Oh dear God," Arthur exhaled before he bounded for the child. He knelt in front of his godson so that their eyes met and smiled warmly at him. "It's been a while, lad. Do you remember me?"

Of course not, Arthur told himself. He was around four or five the last time the two of them had met. He was uncertain if the six year old remembered the two weeks Arthur and his family had spent with the Li family in Hong Kong. He couldn't help but try, however, and when Xiao Chun nodded his head in response, Arthur's smile widened. "If that's the case, what's my name, lad?"

The boy seemed hesitant to answer and, instead, studied the Briton's face as though it would give away any clues. His gaze paused when he examined the Englishman's eyes—and his eyebrows—before replying, "Arthur— _a_ _mā_ and _a bàh_ 's friend."

"That's right. What else do you remember?"

" _A_ _mā_ said you... my godfather."

"That's right as well. Lad, do you want to go to the zoo with me? We can walk and talk."

* * *

The flight from Hong to New York took around sixteen hours, and when the guardian-ward duo landed at John F. Kennedy Airport, they were immediately met by a family of three at the baggage claim area right in front of carousel with their flight number. A woman probably only a few years older than Arthur himself with neatly styled tawny brown hair and violet eyes subconsciously shifted her countenance once she spotted him, altering from worried to relieved. Her eyes watered at the sight of the blond man, and she took to him with long, hurried strides in her black heel while holding the hands of the twin boys. They were blond haired just like Arthur, but one had blue eyes and the other violet just like his mother.

Upon reaching the musician, she relinquished the hold of her children and raised her right hand, striking a loud blow across Arthur's cheek that resounded throughout the area. A few passer-bys who had caught the scene stopped and stared before minding their own business—only to steal another glimpse when the women began to spew acidic French—and Arthur didn't bother flinching from his lover's slap. "Do you have _any_ idea how worried I was, Arthur Kirkland?" she finally demanded from him in English that was accented from the French she had uttered earlier. "Do you _know_ how long you've been gone? Do you _understand_ what kind of thoughts I was having when you... you weren't here a few—no, _several_ , actually—weeks ago?"

He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into his chest. "I missed you, too, love," he muttered into her hair even if she nearly stood equal height to him in her heels. "I know my apologies will never mean a thing to you now, but the adopting process took longer than I had expected." It was the reason why they had first separated, why they had fled to different countries when they realised they couldn't be with or without each other, because the distance between them was already too great physically.

When he was still a musician touring the world with Gilbert and Mathias, Arthur had encouraged her to move back to Paris after four years of their marriage with her family. Her brother inherited their family's chain restaurant, and she was still receiving offers to perform opera in a multitude of European countries. Alfred and Matthew went with her for the academic school year and visited him on every little holiday and every other weekend in England because Arthur's own lifestyle was more unstable than Marianne's.

"I've received a job offer in New York," she told him shortly after she pulled away from her husband. "It'll be a tough start, but I think I can do it. I'm starting up a fashion line for evening gowns and wedding dresses." Before Arthur could even protest, she glanced over at the East Asian boy who had been hiding behind her husband the entire time—shying away from her especially after seeing her reaction to his godfather—and her eyes softened. "Hello, _mon chouchou_ , it's been quite a while, has it not?"

Arthur placed a comforting, encouraging hand on Leon's back. He propelled him forwardly as gently as possible and introduced the Hong Kong boy to his wife once again, "Marianne, this is Leon. Leon, this is my wife, Marianne. Can you say hello?"

Ducking his head shyly, his tiny fists clutched even tighter onto the fabric of Arthur's dark trousers before he greeted the brunette quietly, _"N_ _éih hóu_..."

Smiling, she replied, " _Bonjour_ , Leon. Welcome to the family."

* * *

"He picks up English quite quickly," Arthur told the brunette as she dried off the last of the dishes he had washed. He leant against the kitchen counter beside his wife and added, "I was surprised how he improved so diligently over the past few weeks. He'll be fluent in a few years; it'd be a shame if he was to forget Chinese though—Cantonese especially since not many people still speak it. I don't think Chun-Yan would ever forgive me if that happens."

"So what are you planning to do?" Marianne asked of her younger lover—by only two years as Arthur often pointed out. "He's six years old; he ought to go to school soon."

"After he's comfortable," Arthur answered, "I'm thinking about sending him to the same international private school Alfred and Matthew are attending so that they can help him get along. If there are first or second generation kids there who are bilingual in at least some Cantonese or maybe even Mandarin, I'm sure that will help him if he wants to speak in his native tongue. At the same time, it also encourages him to use more English because of his different setting.

"I'm also planning on taking him on regular trips to Chinatown; I've an... acquaintance there who can teach him Chinese Martial Arts and some reading and writing since all I can do is teach him how to speak Chinese from the book as well as how to box and fight dirty on the streets and how to look out for shady bastards. If he doesn't get any muscle on his arms by the time he's a teenager, it's likely that he'll have to learn _aikido_ as well in order to throw off anybody who attacks him using momentum over power. At any rate, I'll make sure he keeps his roots in memento of his mother and father, and I'll make sure he can at least defend himself if I'm not there to protect him just in case those bloody wankers appear again."

Marianne hummed in thought, her eyes darkening when she recalled the incident in which she and her boys were being threatened by one of Arthur's stalkers. "You've seriously looked into this sort of thing, haven't you?"

Arthur sighed at the recollection of nearly meeting one of his "fans" and almost endangering his family. "I don't know how I felt when Chun-Yan asked me to become his godfather. I was happy, of course, but I was also scared. Chun-Yan is older than both of us, and it always seemed as if she knew... _something_. When she passed away, I couldn't help but wonder if she saw this coming, but that's impossible, right? Then when I saw him again, I just couldn't leave him alone," the blond confessed to his wife. "I'm at my wits' end trying to make him comfortable and to keep him out of trouble. I don't ever want any of us to go through any of that bloody trauma a second time."

"His situation reminded you too much of your past," Marianne deducted.

A bitter, wry smile danced on Arthur's lips as he mused, "Maybe just a little." The Englishman, once upon a time, also had a shit father who up and disappeared—never to be heard again—and his own mother had passed away from either grief or sickness. He and his brothers had been stunted around, shoved from relative to relative, for quite some time until they reached legal adulthood. One by one, everyone disappeared, and the past was just as good as gone. Even Arthur had vanished from England to move to the United States despite the fact that he didn't really care for the country itself; he just needed to get away. He met Marianne at Niagara, where she was over on the Canadian border, visiting some distant relatives in Montreal. At the brief recollection of his history, worry crossed Arthur's mind fleetingly before he announced, "I'm going to check up on him."

"Before you go," Marianne called out to her husband, "might I ask why you renamed him Leon?"

Arthur smiled at her warmly in fond reminiscence of the memory. "We went to the zoo, and he was most excited when he saw the lions. He said that they were big and strong and powerful. He also said that he wanted to be strong, too, so I asked him if he wanted to be named Leon—at least for his English name. It's not a legal change because I wouldn't want to take away the precious name Chun-Yan and Xiao-Fan gave him, but it'll be used in school and public. He agreed, and that was that. He's now Xiao Chun 'Leon' Li-Kirkland—Leon Kirkland for short."

Marianne smiled. "That's quite a name. You think he can carry the weight?"

"He's Chun-Yan's boy and our godson. He's more than capable of it."

Exiting the kitchen, Arthur climbed upstairs and headed down the hall to the room that was once an empty guest room he never used unless he and Marianne got into an argument of some sort. He passed by Alfred and Matthew's room, glancing into the bedroom briefly to check if his eight year old boys were still sound asleep, before continuing down the hall and into Leon's room. He poked his head inside, taking note of the unopened and opened but still packed boxes, before catching sight of a trembling bundle underneath the bed covers. His heart wavered at the scene, breaking upon hearing the stifled sniffles, before he finally brought himself to enter the bedroom as quietly as possible.

Settling down on the unused mattress, he felt the boy tense behind him. Raising his hand, he set it atop Leon's head before stroking his dark silken strands of hair gently and comfortingly. A silence fell between the two where Leon tried to force himself to stop crying. Arthur simply patted his head and said, "I know." _I know what it's like to feel as though you've been abandoned_. "It's okay." _It's fine because I'm here for you now._

And the tears began anew.

* * *

He didn't remember much about his childhood before Arthur came. He could barely recall what his biological father looked like, and the earliest memory Leon had of his biological mother was of her singing him to sleep. It was dark at night, so he couldn't ever make out her face. His next memory was waking up to a loud crash, and the radio was playing another soft ballad. He couldn't make out what was in front of him, but he was still able to see his mother's hand trying to reach out for him. He tried to stretch out his hand, but when his tiny digits brushed against her skin, he only felt cold flesh dampened with some kind of warm, sticky liquid. He brought his hand to his hand and froze at the sight of crimson staining his fingers.

Someone please come, he had pleaded silently. Someone please come help. It's lonely. I'm scared. I don't want to be alone. He had sobbed and choked on his tears, pleading for his mother and father to wake up, but they didn't answer him. They were quiet—too quiet—and there were sirens in the background grating on his ears and someone shouting and—

"Leon?"

Soft brown eyes the colour of caramelised honey snapped open from the sudden surprise, and the sixteen year old shot upright in bed. He met with the bright emerald eyes of his guardian that were glimmering with unabashed concern for his boy. He gave his adopted son a weary smile as though to ask, silently, if he had another nightmare. However, in contrast to the unspoken inquiry, the words that tumbled past his lips were that to inform him that he was to be starting his third year of high school today together with Alfred and Matthew—and, more importantly, that he was a bit late.

Presently, his alarm clock, surprisingly, was still wailing relentlessly, and Leon was surprised that he had managed to sleep through the noise even though the voice of his guardian was enough to pull him out of his unconscious state. He supposed that was how soothing Arthur's presence was to him. Nevertheless, he bolted out of his bedroom after Arthur pulled away and retreated to the dining room, lulled by the smell of morning scones Marianne had baked for him, and locked himself in the bathroom just as Matthew had slipped into the hallway dressed primly and properly in his school uniform while a tiny kitten with a coat of silky, soft white fur Leon had adopted a few months ago danced between his legs as she climbed down the stairs for breakfast.

Leon hurriedly brushed his teeth clean before throwing on his uniform as well. He buttoned up his white shirt, slipped on his trousers and fastened them with a grommet belt, and slipped on an ivory cardigan that hung off his small shoulders. Running his fingers through his silky, thin hair Marianne often commented was catlike in its texture and cleanliness, he quickly rearranged his hair in a natural part before he pulled out his green container of hair wax* and unscrewed the top. Taking a small amount of wax on his forefinger, he spread the styling paste on his palms and then ran his fingers up his hair in a light teasing motion to add a little volume to his normally straight hair before retouching his frame and fringe. Once the Hongkonger finished, he screwed the green container tightly shut and stored it away in his designated drawer from which Alfred and Matthew stayed away—unable to make heads or tails of the Japanese and Chinese characters printed on the products he often bought**—despite the fact that he only had a comb he rarely uses (considering how fine his hair already is), some styling scissors, and a container of hair wax.

Once he left the bathroom, Alfred tumbled out of his and Matthew's shared bedroom with a loud, obnoxious yawn. He stretched his long and huge limbs, nearly knocking into Leon, until he apologised lazily in his sleepy, exhausted state. His foster brother merely rolled his eyes and slipped out of the way to avoid Alfred's unsteadily movements. He snatched his backpack from the floor, a fashionable canvas backpack decorated with ten pins. Each one was representative of one more year that he's spent in America with Arthur and his family. One was the logo of a game he had discovered over a past summer, another was an award for a fashion brand he frequented (though only the sales and clearance racks), several were of artists he appreciated (most of them Asian in origin), and one was of a panda.

Leon has never considered himself sentimental, but he had a habit of stopping by a small shop and buying another pin before he headed to school. Perhaps it was because how Arthur had bought him his first one—his old, scratched panda button—just when he was nervous of even approaching the World Academy located in Central New York. It just stuck with him now, and nobody in his family and none of his friends ever questioned that little quirk. Rather, he noticed that they found it endearing. Hell, Alfred and Matthew nearly splurged on buying him pins and buttons and key-chains for his birthday after they saw him collect yet another one by his freshman year of high school. Those were all safely tucked away in a glass jar atop his study desk within his room.

"Good morning, Leon!" greeted Marianne cheerily as she set a plate of lightly toasted baguette slices spread with butter and jam in front of him along with a simple croissant. Like Arthur, he had a cup of tea—English breakfast with milk and sugar rather than his usual jasmine or oolong tea—than Marianne's French roast _café au lait_ or Alfred and Matthew's hot chocolate.

"Morning," he replied to Marianne as pleasantly as he could with sleep still clouding his mind. He accepted his small breakfast, reaching out for some freshly cut fruit in the centre with his fork, and took a seat between Arthur, who sat at the end of the table, and Matthew. Xiulan, Leon's kitten that he named after a beautiful orchid flower, settled at her bowl nibbling on her food. The golden bell strung onto a red satin ribbon that was tied elegantly into a neat, pristine bow jingled and chimed lightly as she moved about, hopping onto Leon's lap once she was satisfied with how much she had eaten. Leon welcomed her presence, stroking the fingers of his left hand through her fine white fur while he ate with his right hand.

Once Alfred had arrived, dressed in his jersey rather than his blazer like Matthew or a sweater like Leon, he settled down across from Matthew and next to Leon. Grinning at everyone present, he bellowed a loud good morning that burst Leon's eardrums and startled his little kitten, who leapt off his lap and retreated into the living room instead. Arthur grunted in response to his oldest son while Leon remained mostly unchanged. Matthew was smiling politely at his brother—but not quite pleasantly—and Marianne was quick to ask him to lower his voice. Rather than helping himself to baguette slices, Alfred was quick to devour spoonfuls of sugary American cereal.

"Oh, right, I just remembered," Arthur recalled as he pulled his eyes away from the newspaper in his hands. He glanced at Leon and informed his adopted son shortly, "Yao wants to know how you're doing."

" _Sifu_?" Leon repeated dubiously.

Arthur nodded curtly. "He says that you really helped him by volunteering over the summer between your practices, shows, and your part-time job. If you have the time, he wants you to help his employees with teaching their classes between your extracurriculars and studies as well as your job—says that his back has been giving out," the Briton explained. When he noticed Leon's lack of a reaction, his guardian added, "You don't have to accept if you don't want to do it. He knows that... you've been busy."

In other words, Leon deducted shortly, his _sifu_ still doesn't approve of how he spends his leisure time. Leon has never known his grandparents, and he's only ever met Marianne's father since Arthur's parents are both deceased. Thus, Wang Yao, a famous proprietor of Chinatown, took upon the grandfatherly role after meeting him through Arthur. Although it wasn't quite explained to him, the two of them knew each other through a mutual friend. It would appear that Arthur had once dated Yao's niece, but the details were unclear to Leon.

Shaking his head, Leon insisted that he would visit Yao after school to let him know that he would be busy the next two weeks because of school events. Alfred, after swallowing the remains of his cereal, crowed, "It's so cool that you know kung-fu though, bro! Hey, if I visit, can you teach me for free?"

"No way," replied Leon shortly with a light smirk on his lips. "If you can wrestle a free lesson from that miser, then we'll talk about me teaching you _wushu_."

"But I wanted to learn kung-fu!" Alfred protested.

"You can learn _kung fu_ through cooking," Leon retorted, "so ask Marianne."

Alfred blinked slowly at the statement before asking, "Wait, how the heck does that make any sense, man?"

" _Kung fu_ is a way of life," Leon answered his foster brother as patiently as he could. "It refers to _any_ study or practice that requires patience, energy, and time to complete. Sifu is crazy strict on making his students understand that he teaches _wushu_ , martial arts, through _kung fu—_ by, like, strengthening mind and body or something." When he stole another glance at his foster brother and saw that the American was completely lost, he only sighed and shook his head. "Never mind. Besides, you have baseball; you sure you've, like, got enough time?"

Arthur and Matthew shared a short laugh at Alfred's expense. Alfred nodded at his last sentence, however, and agreed, "True, I _am_ the ace. I've got to carry our team, so I probably can't spend that much time learning kung-fu from you, bro."

Standing up from his seat, Alfred dropped his cereal bowl in the sink and dashed out of the dining room with his Jansport backpack slung over one of his shoulders, exclaiming that he's got to help the coach with setting up scouting freshmen. At that, Leon recalled the promise to his friends. Putting away his plate, he told Arthur and Marianne that he was leaving as well before he shortly followed after the oldest of the three brothers.

As he made his way down the pavement, moving along the throng of New Yorkers who were heading off to either school or work, his eyes drifted to the inside of a small toy shop, where he found a collection of key-chains and button pins. His old habit getting the better of him, he strolled inside the shop and admired the little trinkets. Several of the key-chains were shaped like stuffed animals or even Studio Ghibli and anime characters he vaguely recognised. His eyes fell upon a plush puffin—the only one left in stock—with a black belly and a pink ribbon bow and noted the fine, careful detail stitched onto its monochromatic fabrics, admiring its handiwork. Just as he reached out for it, another hand brushed against his before quickly recoiling. Leon blinked at the sudden action before turning his head slightly to find a blushing boy around his age and height, the red stain contrasting his pale skin and equally pale platinum hair. His shimmering violet eyes were averted in embarrassment, and he muttered a nearly unheard, "S-Sorry..."

"It's totally cool, man," Leon assured the _slightly_ taller boy though his expression—or lack thereof—didn't change to match his tone. It was irritating that he's been eating the same meals as Alfred and Matthew, but his foster brothers both insisted that his growth spurt had come early because, once upon a time, he was taller than the twins although they were now _several_ heads taller than him. (Okay, that was slightly exaggerated, but still.) In spite of his fleeting jealousy of the other boy's few centimetres over him, he reached for the puffin and handed it over to the—European, most likely, because Leon was confident that he had heard an accent of sorts—teenage boy, who politely accepted it.

In the meanwhile, Leon snatched one of the buttons printed with a white five-petal orchid flower atop a red background—the flag of Hong Kong—and purchased it silently, pinning it somewhere on his canvas bag as he walked out of the gift shop. Considering the reaction he had gotten from the clerk, the lady most likely hadn't realised she was even selling a pin of the Hong Kong flag—probably thought some girls would go for the flower pattern or something. Quietly, he made his way through the crowd to the direction of World Academy without having realised that he had run into one of his new schoolmates earlier.

World Academy was a private institution most commonly known throughout the entire world as an international school based in New York. A diploma from World Academy could guarantee entrance into any university throughout the world so long as one's grades were more than decent and one had documents hours of some extracurricular activities or volunteer work. Most of the students were of a bright mind in some way or form. Some exceeded in academics while others were more of a creative genius and others still were exceptional athletes. It was a school that was focused on nurturing one's talents from kindergarten all the way to senior year of high school.

There were three notable buildings that compromised of World Academy aside from a kindergarten and nursery school off the main campus. The first and foremost was the primary school for first grade to fifth grade, ages five to around eleven. Then most students from the primary school would feed into the middle school for grades six to eight and then, subsequently, high school for the final four years of compulsory education. However, the high school was also divided into four different sections. There was the general education track for those who are undecided about where or what to study. Then there was the Alaric Beilschmidt Centre of Science and Technology, the Helena Karpusi Hall of Humanities, and the Romulus Vargas Conservatory of the Arts for students who wanted a focus or emphasis on hard sciences and mathematics, social sciences and cultural studies, or fine, visual, or performing arts respectively.

All students were to attend mandatory core classes in the main building used for general studies on Tuesdays and Thursdays before attending the classes in their chosen field on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Students typically choose their studies before attending high school, but it wasn't strange for anyone to change interests within a few months. For instance, Alfred had decided to go into the general education field for a well-rounded education before transferring into the science centre to learn more about physics, chemistry, and biology—anything that would help him in his future career. Matthew had chosen to pursue humanities ever since middle school, and just over the summer, Leon had decided to go into the conservatory of World Academy.

Additionally, despite how each school was sanctioned liked any typical American public school for elementary, junior high, or high school and how the institution itself operated on an American academic year—beginning in the fall and ending in the summer—the classes were arranged more similarly to East Asian schools with a single home room class and rotating teachers. It was an elevator system in which was difficult for outsiders to transfer. Leon had managed to do so when he was six years old and a new citizen of the United States by passing the entrance exam, and he hasn't managed to leave the system since then.

He's gotten used to the large campus, however, and he's gotten used to the people there. Over the past couple of years, he's made his closest friends and, with them, formed his own clique. That didn't mean that he didn't get along with Alfred and Matthew in school, however. Although they were always a grade ahead of him, the twins always made time for him whenever he needed them or vice-versa. He's always been quiet in a way that wasn't like Matthew's shy and reserved nature—rather, a kind of mysterious, standoffish manner, so to speak—that felt as though they had to protect him from becoming broken.

Perhaps it was because he didn't even know his past prior to coming to America.

He didn't mind though. He liked it here with his foster brothers, with Arthur and Marianne, with his friends, and even with Sifu.

After checking the room number for his new home room class in the main building, Leon climbed up the stairs to locate the proper classroom. He shuffled inside, recognising several faces, before taking a seat to the left of a girl with long, straight hair that she had dyed to a lighter brown from the typical dark hair associated with those of East Asian descent and in front of a boy who had dark brown hair with bangs combed over to the side and a pair of square glasses. The girl on his right then turned to him, revealing the honey coloured big circle lenses she had decided to wear today, and snapped in Mandarin that was lightly accented by her native Taiwanese tongue, "Leon, you're late! Lien and Kasem have already left for their own home room!"

"Sorry, Mei," he replied shortly in Mandarin as well. It was becoming easier to speak Mandarin now even though he still infuses little bits and pieces of Cantonese or English. With Cantonese, however, it still came to him naturally like some distant memory or... or like a dream. His eyes drifted away from Mei's worried expression and towards the door, studying everyone who had come through the door. There were mostly familiar faces considering that most people had stuck around since primary school, but there was a few new faces from people he's never encountered before. Leon figured they weren't new to the school seeing how easily they've conversed with other people.

He blinked when he noticed a particularly pale face though. How had he not noticed the boy from earlier had worn the same uniform as he did? Nevertheless, his attention wandered back to his friends when he heard the person behind him speak. He only saw the newcomer slip in the seat in front of him—the only seat available, Leon noted—out of the corner of his eye.

"Well," chimed the boy sitting at the desk behind Leon in Mandarin as well, "it's not really a problem—right, Mei? We'll just talk at lunch about what to do about the club festival next week. We have plenty of time, so don't worry!"

Judging by the worry in her eyes, however, she insisted, "I'm _nervous_ though! It's our first time performing at a school festival! It's different if we were just in the park, but this is a _public event for all students_ and our chance to recruit new members!" Her outburst—still in Mandarin—had caught the attention of their classmates, most of whom were from Europe and didn't understand one bit of Chinese—and, more importantly, the attention of the young woman who had entered the classroom with a pile of documents.

At the front, the teacher—one Elizaveta Héderváry who recently married one of the music teachers, a Roderich Edelstein—coughed into her fist, gathering their attention, and smiled politely at the three East Asians in her class. "If you don't mind," she told the three of them, "I would like to get our first home room session of the year started."

Mei smiled sheepishly at the teacher and apologised in perfectly clear English lightly accented by her Taiwanese tongue with a slight incline of her head as well. Accepting the apology, the brown haired teacher smiled brightly at the rest of the class and announced that she would call out roll. Instead of simply replying that we were present once our name was called, she would prefer that we mention where we were from considering that it was an international school well-known all over the world so that only the brightest and the best could be accepted.

As names were called, the names of the students' home nation was given. There were a few odd glances here and there upon hearing of small and relatively obscure nations. For example, the girl sitting in front of Mei was from Liechtenstein, and the boy next to her (and in front of Leon) was from Iceland. Most people were from Britain, Australia, Russia, China, or South Korea.

"Siu—Jia—Xiao—I'm so sorry for butchering your name," Mrs. Edelstein apologised quickly and sheepishly as she peered into her class of teenage students, trying to match a face to a name. "The last name is Li-Kirkland?"

"You can just call me Leon Kirkland," he told the instructor rather monotonously. "I'm from Hong Kong."

This caused a slight stir among the Chinese students since, in Leon, Cheng, and Mei's cases, a few of them questioned whether or not they should have answered with China rather than Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan respectively, but Mrs. Edelstein was quick to move on from questions of politics in order to avoid a heated debate or two.

When class started with a lesson of world history, Leon's eyes fell onto the messenger bag sit at the legs of the Icelandic boy's chair and the puffin key-chain hooked on one of the zips. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he mused, He really bought it. Resting his head in his arms, Leon discreetly hid behind the Icelandic student's back and out of the teacher's line of sight, closing his eyes to rest them from the daylight sun's bright rays. He spent world history mostly unnoticed, but the second period, the mathematics teacher didn't let him off so easily.

He had actually strolled all the way down the aisle, lecturing in the meanwhile, before "accidentally" kicking the leg of Leon's desk, making the Hongkonger startle from the sudden noise and tremor. "Rise and shine, kid," he remarked dryly. Mei had giggled from beside him, and he was positive that Cheng was grinning at his misfortune as well.

Nevertheless, Leon managed to stay awake for most of class, lasting until the lunch break, before he was nearly dragged out of the classroom by Mei to their clubroom. The Taiwanese girl made sure to tell Cheng to pick up some lunch for them. As he stumbled over his own two feet in order to regain his balance, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Stealing a glimpse back into the classroom, he met with a violet gaze that quickly turned away from him. The Icelandic boy was now conversing with the girl from Liechtenstein; both of whom were incredibly shy from what Leon has noticed.

Leon and Mei strolled out of the main building and into the Romulus Conservatory of the Arts nearby. The main building was situated between the three schools in a courtyard like the centre of a ring. Their lunch break was around forty-five minutes long, so they had to make the most of it, after all. The two of them popped into the studio room they often used—to the point where they just plastered their names over the plaque reading the room number outside—where they found a girl with dark brown hair pulled into a neat ponytail and golden brown eyes waiting patiently for them. "Leon, Mei," she greeted her friends warmly. "I sent Kasem to get lunch, so I'm guessing you guys did the same to Cheng."

"Lien!" Mei chimed as she bounced onto the Vietnamese girl, wrapping her arms around her best friend's neck in a fond hug. "It'd be so much easier if we were all in the same class!"

Leon scoffed lightly in the manner of a teasing laugh. "If that happened, like, you would be scolded more often for trying to speak with Lien," he pointed out shortly. Mei pouted in response before pulling away from her best friend. He settled down on the ground and began to stretch his limbs. "So what's happening or whatever?"

"We have a week to prepare for the club festival," Mei explained as she joined him in his stretches, "so we need to be ready to perform. Getting new members to join our crew depends on this! It was a miracle we even managed to get five members last year after _four_ years of practising!"

Mei would never let their four years of hard work go to waste after they've painstakingly managed to reach a level where their dancing styles could finally blend. Mei had experience in ballet and ballroom dancing while Lien was familiar with traditional dances from Vietnam and some modern dances. Cheng admittedly had some break-dancing experience back in Macau while Kasem was familiar with jazz and hip-hop styles. Leon had only managed to get usurped into their antics because he often spent time with Cheng and Mei, who in turn spent time with Lien and Kasem, and of all five of them he had no experience dancing at all. He had told them that he was a martial artist, but that was good enough for them to start teaching him the basics of, well, everything.

It had gotten to a point where Arthur had actually sent him to Anya Braginskaya, a Russian dance instructor, for a month once he had discovered what Leon was trying to do with his friends. His adoptive son had been leaving the house more often to hang out with his friends, and he had usually returned home with sores and bruises located in the oddest places—his shoulders, his knees, his ankles, and his elbows—even though it didn't look like he had gotten into a fight. His guardian was supportive in his interests so long as they were legal and reasonable, but his grandfather figure wasn't so much involved in his newly developed dancing hobby and had called it "clowning around."

Still, much to their relief, by freshman year of high school, they had managed to become an official club to ease the burden of finances considering that the school already had studios they didn't need to rent. Over the summer, they had gotten jobs in order to pay for practice rooms by the hour every other week. Otherwise, they found a levelled spot in the park and practised there. Unfortunately, being a new club on campus, they had failed to recruit more club members their sophomore year of high school, which led to their current predicament.

"That doesn't leave much room for new dances," Lien mused aloud. "I'm assuming that you want us to work with what we've already learned over the summer."

"I'd rather not work with too many K-pop songs," Leon requested monotonously with a deadpan expression. "Well, like, pop songs in general get too annoying after a while."

The door open to reveal Kasem and Cheng holding plastic bags filled with snacks. "What are we talking about?" Kasem asked as he smiled warmly at his friends.

"Nothing much," Mei replied. "Just Leon being a whiny baby about pop music. Anyway, as I was saying, most people are interested in hip-hop and pop. I've already done some thinking during class. We'll blend what we've done in a mix. Each performance-related club is given up to ten minutes on stage. If we went with full-length songs, that would only amount to two or three of them. One of our options is to cut bits and pieces of what we've learned and mix them together. Osaka from Lien and Kasem's class said he would help us with mixing multiple songs when we've picked out what we want to do, figure out the timing, and order them."

"All right then," Lien agreed with a nod of her head. "If we have ten minutes, then we should do the beginning doing kind of like an introduction. We could start out with a traditional dance and gradually infuse it with other elements—in a song like _'Senbonzakura,_ ' for instance. _"_

"Okay, totally," Leon replied shortly. "I'm down for ' _Senbonzakura_ ' _—_ the one with the fans, right?"

"I think it would be impressive with folding fans," Mei chirped. "If we had the time, I kind of want to incorporate parasols, too. For now, let's just figure out how to arrange the song and touch up the dance. Because of what Lien said about infusing other elements though, I think we should have the song change though."

"Change?" Kasem repeated dubiously. "Like to a different song?"

"Not quite," Mei replied with a cheeky smile on her lips. "There's plenty of covers of ' _Senbonzakura_.' There's the original version, then there's a piano version, then there's a jazz version, then there's a violin version, and let's not forget all of the remixes. I say we pick the ones we like, mash them together, and fix up the dance once Osaka gets back to us! This way we can show that we do multiple styles instead of _just_ hip-hop or _just_ jazz, you know? It'll appeal to more people to join if they want to learn how to dance in general."

"So then," Lien continued, "after we're done with our 'introduction,' we could jump into a pop song—like some Korean boy band."

"Okay, sounds good," Cheng chirped. "I know the perfect part for the lead, too."

After stating that, everyone turned to stare at Leon, who only blinked in response. When he realised what they were insinuating, he frowned but was unable to protest because everyone else was already on board. In America, it was majority rules.

"So, pretty boy and friends," Mei sang as she hopped back onto her feet and pulled Leon up by the arm, "let's get started by practising what we know to start figuring out when to cut out times and string things together. We'll talk costumes later!"

Leon shrugged and remarked, "As long as I'm in charge of the finale."

"Finale?" Kasem repeated amusedly, and nobody asked anything more of their Hongkonger friend when a mischievous glint overtook his normally expressionless amber eyes.

Nobody questioned anything when Leon, Cheng, and Mei returned to class breathless and a bit sweaty. Leon suspected it was because nobody wanted to ask. When school ended, Leon was quick to pick up his backpack and leave the classroom after telling Mei and Cheng that he had to see his _sifu_ over in Chinatown before starting his shift at work.

* * *

Emil flinched as he felt the fist pound against the wall brick behind him. His hands clutched tightly onto the strap of his bag. His violet eyes trained on the ground as he questioned what else he could do in this kind of situation. Nowhere in his life had he ever been prepared to get mugged in the middle of _daylight_ for God's sake! There was no way that he could easily outrun his assailants either. They were larger by far and certainly faster if one was to judge by the muscles on their builds. There was no escape for him.

"I don't have to tell you twice, right, rich kid? Fork over all you've got."

 _Rich_? He was far from it. He only managed to get into World Academy due to their generous scholarships and grants; otherwise, he would have attended a public school near his uncle's apartment. Not to mention, all he had in his wallet was his ID and his MetroCard that he's only used a few time since moving here a few weeks back to travel the subway or the local buses. Still, it seemed as though these people had the wrong idea, however, and the fact that he wasn't trying to refute or correct them didn't help much either.

This was great, he griped. He moved away from safe, peaceful Iceland—where he was _happy—_ to live in America with his brother, who was studying classical music at some private university on a scholarship as well, because there was no way that he wanted to live alone in an empty house their parents had left behind after their deaths. That was an excellent decision on his part and so was being frightened into actually following these thugs into an _alleyway_ of all places. He was absolutely _brilliant_.

"Hey, can I, like... I dunno... _get through_?"

Everyone's attention snapped towards the person who had spoken, and Emil's eyes widened as he recognised the boy from Hong Kong who just happened to be in his class. His rich caramel brown eyes with a faint golden honey undertone didn't reveal a single trace of emotion as he stared at the group of four trying to mug the Icelander. His gaze flickered over to Emil, and the platinum blond froze underneath the calm, collected gaze. Even when they had met at the gift shop that morning he was just as cool and composed that it made Emil wonder if he had any other expressions.

"I know that it's not like any of my business or anything, but... you sure this is a fair fight?" the Hongkonger asked of the four thugs. "I mean, there's like four of you guys and one of him. He's kind of on the skinny side, too. Looks like he'd break if you hit him, and that's no fun."

"What the hell's your problem!?" snapped one of them.

"Let me, like, help you guys out or something," mused his classmate idly as he tilted his head to the side in what appeared to be amusement. Emil wasn't sure because of the darkness of the alleyway, but he could have sworn that his expression was completely unchanged and entirely unaffected. "Let's make this a little interesting."

"He's wearing the same uniform! Get him, too!" exclaimed another one.

When two of them lunged forward, the Hongkonger seized hold of the first assailant's arm and actually _tossed_ him over his shoulder. Emil could only watch with bulging eyes as he did that—not once—but _twice_. The third growled and charged at him, but the Hongkonger easily deflected his attacks as well and, like with the previous two, flipped him over his shoulder and pinned him to the ground. He glanced over to the fourth person, who was still trapping Emil against the wall, and taunted him, "Hey, like, you want to join them or what?"

Agitated, the last of the thugs dashed towards him with a fist at the ready, but his classmate easily caught the punch and flipped him onto one of his friends who was just getting up for a shot at revenge. The two collapsed onto the ground, and the Hongkonger hummed. "Not done yet? Okay, cool, whatever." Just as they lurched forward all at once, Emil could only watch in awe as his classmate easily used their attacks against one another before delivering his own blows without even a brief moment of hesitation. They were sharp and concise and unbelievably fast. His fists, his palms, and even the sole of his feet, all landed on vital points, staggering his much larger opponents. His movements were so fluid and graceful that it appeared as if he was dancing.

The most infuriating part was that his hair was still _perfect_.

When they were immobile, he stepped towards Emil and grabbed hold of his wrist, quickly pulling him along and out of the alleyway. Just as soon as they were a good distance away from the site of the fight, his classmate dropped his wrist and asked him sternly, "What the hell were you doing there? Anybody with common sense would know to get out of there and to stick with a crowd of people."

A heavy flush coated his cheeks as Emil was confronted with the foolishness of his actions. "I was scared," he muttered as shame crossed his features. He didn't really want to speak English since, unlike some of the other students who have been here for a couple of years already, his accent was on the heavy side.

"Then why didn't you, like, run away?"

Emil scowled. "Maybe because I _couldn't_!" he snapped, unable to take any more of this unreasonable questioning. "Not everyone has the guts or strength run away in that kind of situation! _Maybe_ the best option was just to quietly play along and get it over with! _Maybe_ not everyone could think clearly when in the face of danger! _Maybe_ not everyone can run away that quickly!"

His outburst had attracted more attention than he had thought, and he wouldn't be surprised if it had woken up those unconscious thugs back in the alley. His already reddened face darkened into a deep crimson as the Hongkonger stared at him with those cool, calculating eyes of his. Just as he was about to drop his eyes to the ground and tell him to forget everything, he caught sight of the slight smile on the East Asian's lips. "You're interesting," mused his classmate. "You say that, like, you didn't have the guts or the strength to run away, but it looks like you've got 'strength' and 'guts' and all that to me. Anyway, just run like hell next time. Like, don't bother to think about running. At that point, it's not even a question; just get to some place with a shit ton of people to cover your back."

Before he turned away to continue towards his destination, he pressed a forefinger to his pink lips. "By the way, keep what happened back there a secret. The school's got a rule or something against fighting. I'm not sure if what I did counted as self-defence, so that, like, totally never happened. Cool?"

"Y-Yeah," Emil replied slowly. "Cool."

"Stay away from alleys and short-cuts since you're obviously new around here, yeah?" reminded his classmate before he shoved his hands into the pockets of his cardigan and shuffled away.

Emil watched as his form shrunk smaller and smaller with the increasing distance between them, and then he finally pivoted on his heel and headed towards the station. Pouting slightly, he bit his bottom lip and muttered in Icelandic, "Don't tell me what to do..."

* * *

 **A/N:**

This is kind of a pilot chapter just to see how this story goes. It's my first time writing a Hong Kong/Iceland high school!AU, and I was a bit taken by how cute these guys are. This story will mostly focus on developing familial relationships, friendships, and, of course, a bit of romance. It's my first time writing about the Asian countries as well, and I'm a bit surprised that I'm quite comfortable with Taiwan and Hong Kong especially. I hope nobody is too terribly out of character though.

There's FACE family with a nyo!France as a very minor pairing though and ex-UK/nyo!China (if you haven't noticed, haha). There's not very many side pairings in this story though, and AusHun is just... there, I guess.

"Hopeless Brothers" also refers to the name of the band Arthur is in with Gilbert and Mathias. I thought it sounded more dramatic than "Fail Brothers."

 **Footnotes:**

* In this story Leon uses Gatsby Moving Rubber (Air Rise) to style his hair because I'm more familiar with using Gatsby, a brand of hair products from Japan. I'm assuming that his hair is normally flat (and still perfect), but because he seems to pay mind to fashion, he tends to style his hair—especially after reaching adolescent age and discovering more of himself as a teen would (according to all of the health pamphlets I've seen and textbooks I've read).

** Although Japanese and Chinese languages are quite different, there are some similarities in their strokes since Japanese _kanji_ adopts Chinese characters. The term itself means "Han characters" in its literal translation, and its characters are the same as " _hanzi_ " in traditional Chinese. I have friends who are familiar with Chinese but are able to read Japanese _kanji—_ same meaning, different readings—and likewise, I can read some _kanji_ and apply a similar meaning to Han characters.

Similarly, Cantonese and Mandarin are different forms of spoken Chinese. Mandarin is considered standard Chinese, but they both use the same writing system from what I'm aware. How they pronounce words is different though. For example, Leon first greets Marianne with " _N_ _éih hóu_ ," the Cantonese equivalent of " _Ni hao_ ," and he also addresses Yao as "師傅" (master), which is pronounced _sifu_ ( _see-foo_ ) in Cantonese but _shī fu_ ( _shir-fu_ ) in Mandarin. Either way, the meaning is the same; "師傅" is a traditional way of addressing non-academic teachers like potters and martial arts masters whereas "老師" ( _lou-si_ in Cantonese; _lǎo shī_ in Mandarin) refers to an academic teacher.

 **Other Notes:**

Continuing with the East Asian language tangent:

As far as I'm aware, people in Taiwan speak Taiwanese and standard Chinese (Mandarin), but their official script is traditional Chinese. People in Hong Kong seem to know both Mandarin and Cantonese (considering that Cantonese is a spoken language), and Macau has Chinese and Portuguese listed as their official languages. Since they all seem to have Mandarin in common, that's the language Leon uses to communicate with Mei and Cheng aside from English.

Also, in Vietnam, the _Hoa_ people speak Cantonese natively, but I'm assuming that Lien is purely Vietnamese and not a part of a Chinese ethnic group in Vietnam.

Leon's comment about Marianne teaching Alfred kung-fu:

Kung-fu really is a way of life. Leon explained it to Alfred earlier. However, Western countries typically refer to kung-fu as Chinese martial arts when that is really called _wushu_ , which is literally translated "military arts." In the last scene, Leon is using a mixture of _wushu_ and _aikido_ to fend off Emil's attackers.

 _Aikido_ is a form of Japanese martial arts that uses momentum to redirect the opponent's attacks as well as throws or joint locks that prevents the opponent from using a technique. I figured it would suit Hong Kong's build more than _judo_ , where the goal is to throw down or pin an opponent. However, _aikido_ also protects the attacker from injury (thus, why Leon also ended up using _wushu_ to deter his opponents).

My Naming Conventions:

Also, I tend to write the Asian names in the format of surname then given name if the perspective belongs to someone of Asian descent. The only exception to this rule is Hong Kong because his first and last name (as of present) is Leon Kirkland instead of something like Li Xiao Chun. Normally, I use the name Wang Jia Long for Hong Kong, but I felt like doing something a little different.

In this AU, Taiwan is Lin Mei Ling, which combines Himaruya's possible names Lin Yi Ling and Xiao Mei, because I felt like there was enough "Xiao" already in the story. Additionally, Macau is Wong Cheng in order to differentiate from China's Wang Yao (although both names are pronounced similarly), Vietnam is Nguyen Lien, and Thailand is Chao Kasem.

Misc. Comments:

Hong Kong's cat is actually based off nekotalia!Iceland, and she is named after the Hong Kong orchid. (Xiulan is written with the characters for beautiful orchid.)

" _Senbonzakura_ " (千本桜; lit. "A Thousand Cherry Blossoms") is a Vocaloid song produced by Kurousa originally "sung" by Hatsune Miku. It has numerable covers—singing, instrumental, and dancing—and Mei refers to using a blend of the instrumental covers for their performance.

Also, I'm convinced that Leon is most likely shorter than Emil, even if slightly, because the average height of a male Hongkonger is around 171-173 centimetres (between 5'7" and 5'8") and the average height of an Icelandic male is around 180 centimetres (around 5'10"). Since they're teens and still growing, they should be around the same height. However, Emil is most likely taller than 170 since, officially, Finland is the shortest Nordic of the five at 170 centimetres, and Iceland is the second shortest Nordic. At any rate, there's around a five centimetres, two inches height difference between the two of them _at most_ in this AU.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: A Little Push**

"Okay, so, starting from this point, one-two-three, and left-right, left-right, left, then—"

"I know the tea lounge is empty, but could you two kids _not_ dance behind the counter?" a highly amused but annoyed voice inquired from behind them in sharp Mandarin. The two teenagers jumped in their shoes before turning their attention to their boss. Mei wore a sheepish grin on her lips while Leon's expression was mostly unchanged. "I'm afraid that something would break even with your quick reflexes, Leon, and _I'm_ the one who trained you."

"Sorry, Sifu," Leon apologised wholeheartedly as he bowed his head politely.

"I think I'll forgive you if you tell me how your show goes—although I still think you should be studying instead of monkeying around," the Chinese man mused aloud as he stepped onto the main floor of the bubble tea lounge he manages. Originally, it was supposed to be just an ordinary tea house, but Leon, Mei, _and_ Cheng managed to convince the entrepreneur to "keep up with the times." When he started selling bubble tea and cakes and other little pastries instead, his tea lounge saw a surge in popularity, and so the previous summer he had hired Mei and Leon to help him run the establishment. He would have dragged Cheng onto their sailing business ship as well, but the Macanese boy was already hired as a tutor for some of the elementary and middle school students.

"I told you that we would have it recorded, didn't I, Shī fu? You can't leave the tea lounge until you find a manager for this shop like with your restaurants," Mei retorted, ignoring the last part of his comment, in her faintly accented Mandarin—her tongue more used to Taiwanese pronunciations. Like Leon, the Taiwanese girl had taken to addressing the Chinese man as a teacher. Although he was a bit naggy, the two of them did have some respect for how he managed to conquer most Chinatown without being accused of monopolising the competition; not only that, but he was also an elder they were kind of obligated to respect. "Tsukomi from Lien's class is going to help us mix the songs and record the dance."

Osaka Tsukomi was a teenage boy around Mei and Leon's age with hair dyed a light brown and golden brown eyes. Like Mei and Leon, he was a typical trendsetter, especially among the Asian population at school, but he was also quite talented in mixing, recording, and producing music. He once admitted to Mei that he did in fact have Megurine Luka's and Gumi's voice banks (since he preferred Luka over Miku) when they bonded over their love of Japanese pop culture.

He worked a part-time job manning the sound deck at some concert venues because he was trying to earn money to buy more equipment, such as male voice banks for another one of his upcoming projects and a proper microphone for his transition into covering songs. Although he was already rather popular on the Japanese side of YouTube and NicoNico Douga, he was still ambitious yet quite friendly, so it was no wonder why people usually take a liking to him after meeting him in person. Leon doubted that there was anyone who _didn't_ like Osaka.

"Watching it in person and virtually are two wholly different experiences," Yao protested sharply and then announced that all of them should get back to work, and both Mei and Leon sighed in relief when he left. Sometimes, Yao could be a _little_ overbearing.

"Have you decided on what songs we're going to use?" Leon asked his friend shortly once Yao was out of hearing range. It was a blessing and a curse that their boss was going senile.

"We're going to combine different covers of ' _Senbonzakura_ ' together," replied Mei with a wide grin. "Like starting out slow with the ballad version so we can incorporate some ballet and ballroom, and when they least expect it, pop in the original with some traditional dancing incorporated with hip-hop elements, then to the jazz version for the instrumental break, and we switch back to the original before fading into the ballad for the ending. After that, we plan to end our show with MBLAQ's début song."

"Are you sure you want us to cover a dance from a _Korean_ boy band?" Leon asked of his Taiwanese friend. Honestly, he didn't mind dancing to a pop song in general as long as the song wasn't as annoying as others when looping and replaying, but he would rather not have a certain international student from Korea go on about how their dance group was supposedly representing his country when they really were just dancing for the hell of it. (He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he did accept that some of the groups were pretty good dancers.) Of course, he guessed that they would also risk the chance that Yong-Soo would also bother them if they weren't going to perform a Korean song. He knew that not everyone in their group—except maybe for Cheng because he had the patience of a Saint or even Kasem because he was pretty cheerful himself—could handle the bundle of energy known as Im Yong-Soo.

"We might as well," Mei persisted as she settled herself in front of the cash register, "since they're usually energetic dances. 'Oh Yeah' is a pretty upbeat and fast-paced song. The dancing isn't half-bad either."

"I guess," Leon finally conceded. "The song just gets, like, crazy annoying after a while. Well, all pop songs do." A moment passed before a familiar chorus flitted through his mind repeating nothing but the same two words all over again for the entire hook. "Great. It's stuck in my head."

Waving off Leon's complaints dismissively, Mei then glanced over at her friend and asked, "Are you fine with taking all of the fan-service parts though? We kind of pushed that on you, after all. We could always cut it out if you're uncomfortable with it."

Shrugging casually and rather nonchalantly, the Hongkonger answered her shortly, "Yeah, sure, I'm totally fine with it. Like, it only lasts a few seconds anyway, and, besides, it's no secret to the world that I'm devilishly handsome—even more than the dancer that pulled it off in the music video."

At that, Mei rolled her eyes but didn't bother refuting his statement. It was pretty much the reason why they had volunteered him for the shirt-lifting stunts pulled off by the main dancer in the original choreography that would expose his pretty damn well-built abdominal muscles. Since Leon had a pretty Asian boy image at school rather than the stereotypical smart Asian kid, they were planning to exploit it whenever they had the chance if it meant that it would attract more potential club members—even if it risked a detention or two for indecent behaviour because Leon would technically be _almost_ stripping. However, Mei and the others didn't really consider that what Leon was planning for his own grand finale would probably land them a week or two in detention, so he kept it to himself. Everyone was sure to enjoy it anyway—or so he thought.

"More like," Leon continued, "I'm surprised that Cheng doesn't get that nauseous when he's spinning upside down on his solo bit."

"Maybe we should take out some flips then," Mei suggested sheepishly, seeing that it was her choreography that was responsible for the safety of her friends.

"No, seriously," Leon insisted, "it's cool. I mean, since Cheng isn't, like, vomiting or whatever, then it's fine. Plus, with a few practices, we'll be able to nail all of the flips near the end. We just have to time and coordinate everything properly. I'm sure after the twelfth time, you won't end up kicking Lien in the face or tripping her feet by accident."

"Gee, thanks," responded Mei sarcastically. Shifting her attitude, she hummed to herself merrily and mused, "I'm looking forward to this. You seem pretty excited, too, Leon." Even at the mention of his name, the Hongkonger was rather deadpan.

"Not really," replied Leon shortly. He leant his elbows against the counter and sighed. "If a customer doesn't walk through that door in the next ten minutes, then, like, I'll seriously take my lunch break and leave."

Hardly anyone comes at this hour, he couldn't help but think to himself. After all, most students are caught up in extracurricular activities at school or working at some other joint in town if they're not loitering around. Most office workers have already had their coffee run and lunch break as well. It was busiest during holiday seasons and over the weekends, but since it was Monday, of course nobody wanted to show their face. Even Leon wanted to go home and sleep.

Because it was Monday, Leon was sure that something would come along to ruin his plans as well. Not only did he have a piling mound of homework even after the first day back to school, but a customer just walked into the tea lounge. Mei giggled at his poor luck, and Leon only rolled his eyes in response to her amusement. "Mr. Køhler," he greeted his guardian's close friend politely even though his facial expression, again, didn't change to match the pleasantry for which he was aiming. "What brings you here?"

"I just wanted an iced coffee on my way back from work. I just ordered a bunch of ingredients for a new type of bread I'm trying out," the Dane informed him shortly with a wide, amiable grin on his lips. Arthur never really explained how he had become friends with a "Great Dane" who worked one of the best Danish bakeries in the neighbourhood. Mathias Køhler left quite an impression on others though. For instance, even as he was reaching forty years of age, his hair was still as unruly as a lion's mane, and his blue eyes were just as bright and friendly as they've always been since the two of them first met ten years ago.

Leon used to think that the two of them had met in America when Arthur had relocated to New York from London, but it seemed as though Mathias and another odd man named Gilbert had known him before then. It was only when he was in middle school that Arthur had explained to him that he used to be in a band with Mathias and Gilbert; that was equally hard to conceive as the fact that he's met Mathias and Gilbert before when he was like four or five years old. Well, to be fair, Leon didn't really remember much about his childhood, and the first time he had admitted that to his guardian's colleagues, he recalled how their faces had darkened into some kind of pity or sympathy he couldn't exactly distinguish. He was sure that there was more to their knowledge—something they knew that he didn't—but he didn't call them out on it.

"Actually, can you make that three iced coffees?" the Dane asked sheepishly. "I've got two nephews staying with me now. They just moved here, so I figured I'd treat them as often as I can to make them feel more at home."

Mei rung up his order, asking if he would like some tapioca pearls (to which he answered yes for the two extra coffees), and gave him his total, which he paid in cash. After giving him back his change, Mei kicked Leon into the back so that he could help prepare the coffee.

Mathias raised his phone and snapped a picture of a deeply focused Leon, who was working on the orders while Mei manned the cash register, so that he could boast to Arthur and Marianne that he was served their son's infamous coffee. Once he finished with the three drinks, he placed them carefully in a cardboard cup carrier and then served them to Mathias. "Thanks, Leon," he praised the Hongkonger. "Arthur and Marianne must be really proud of you." With that, Leon saw off the customer—the last one before rush hour.

* * *

"Hey, Lukas! Emil!" Mathias' obnoxiously loud voice rang throughout the apartment—much to the disdain of their neighbours—as he loudly shut the front door with the heel of his foot. Skilfully, he locked the door with a single hand while balancing the drinks in the other. He shuffled into the living room and placed the three cups of iced coffee on the wooden table he had bought from his cousin, a designer and carpenter who's been offered a job at IKEA a few times. "I've got something for you!"

" _Whaaat, Anko_?" groaned the twenty year old young man half Mathias' own age as he stepped out of the corridor leading to the two bedrooms—one for himself and the other for his youngest nephew. The violinist, on the other hand, was staying at the dorms though he was currently visiting his brother. The sixteen year old followed behind his brother, and his eyes curiously gauged the living room for the gift their uncle had allegedly brought home. "Coffee at this hour?"

"I've still got paperwork to do tonight, checking on the inventory and stuff," Mathias explained shortly, "and I thought that, if you guys were up studying late, then you could probably use the caffeine, too. It's from this tea lounge in Chinatown. The kid who works there is my friend's boy. Maybe you know him, Emil; Arthur says that he attends the same school you do—same section, too."

"Just because he goes to the same school and is in the same section as I am doesn't mean that I know him," Emil protested as he collapsed on the sofa in the living room. Under his breath, he mumbled in Icelandic, not wanting to speak in English more than necessary, "Besides, it's only my first day here, and the schools are divided into more emphases."

"Come on, maybe you _do_ know him! His name is Leon!"

At the mention of the familiar name, Emil blinked. "Leon?" he repeated.

"Yeah, Leon Kirkland," the Dane confirmed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "He's got blond—nah, that was last summer, wasn't it?—is it red now? Or did he go back to brown hair?—well, he's Asian and pretty damn stylish for a kid. I think he's a dancer or an actor or something cool." After pulling up his photo albums, he thumbed through his recent photos and pulled one of the person to whom he was referring. "Ah, here it is! I sent this one to Artie to tease him about missing out on Leon's coffee!"

Turning around his phone in his hand, he displayed the image to his youngest nephew, and—sure enough—it was the Hongkonger who had saved him earlier today. Instead of the school uniform, however, he wore a black polo with form-fitting trousers that had the logo of the tea lounge printed over the right side of his chest. "He's... in my class," Emil confessed before taking the cup with the puffin in his hands, "but I don't see him in the conservatory often." Well, he supposed that it was because Leon was a dancer, so he was in a different floor and wing than Emil, who was being trained in piano.

Eyeing the content of the cups curiously, he was mildly surprised to find that the beverage contained melted ice cubes and dark, candy-like drops stacked at the bottom. It was certainly unlike how he usually took his coffee—warm with minimal milk and sugar and without any... candy—probably. "What is this?"

"It's called bubble tea, a thing from Taiwan that's pretty big in Asia. The chewy candy-things are called tapioca pearls, but Leon says that the bigger ones are called boba," Mathias answered shortly. "I didn't even know what it was until Leon explained it to me. The kid's pretty active in exploring his own culture; he practically lives in Chinatown. I think more teens are there at the tea lounge than old men like me though, so it was kind of embarrassing buying something like this. Leon and his friends say that the best favour is milk tea, but I figured you guys would appreciate coffee a little more than tea."

"Thanks," Emil muttered under his breath. He watched as Mathias took one of the three straws, the thinnest one as the others were wider in diameter, and pulled it out of its wrapper, stabbing the pointed end through the plastic cover of the cup. Grabbing one of the two remaining straws, Emil did the same and stabbed it through the cover. He shyly brought the straw to his lips and took a sip of the coffee—finding it sweeter than what he'd like. It wasn't bad though... until one of the chewy pearls went up his straw. He nearly swallowed it whole without chewing, but when he caught it between his teeth, he found it no different from gummy candy—if only a bit bland. Am I supposed to be eating or drinking? Emil mused to himself. Nonetheless, he quietly accepted the gift and retreated back into his room to continue with the mathematics homework his class was given today.

At the memory of what had happened to Leon in maths class—being called out by the teacher—Emil couldn't help but laugh quietly. Maybe New York wasn't too bad, after all. Sure, it was a pretty heartless city where the naïve flocked to fulfil their dreams only to end up being cruelly trampled like the scum underneath the sole of one's shoes—especially during rush hour—but there were a few things to which Emil could look forward.

* * *

"For some reason, my backpack is like crazy heavy today," Leon mumbled under his breath as he joined Cheng and Mei in their home room class. After taking attendance and making some important announcements, the students would be dismissed to attend the classes for their emphasised study—sciences, humanities, or the arts. Leon's caramelised honey eyes flitted over Emil's shrinking form before he set his backpack atop his desk.

"You should know what's in your backpack," Cheng pointed out, "since you're the only one who touches it. I doubt Matthew would mess around with your stuff."

"So then it's Alfred," Leon concluded shortly as he undid the flap and pulled the drawstring to widen the opening. "I mean, I leave all of my shit inside." Unless he had homework, Leon hardly ever touched his backpack. He carried the same things day in and day out, so it made no sense as to why it would suddenly feel like it weighed a few kilos heavier. Cheng and Mei were quick to crowd his desk, just as curious as the owner of the backpack himself. His eyes peered curiously inside the bag before widening in surprise and a slight panic that was rare of him to display.

"Ah!" Mei exclaimed rather loudly, attracting all of the attention in the room. Fortunately, Leon and Cheng guarded the source of her distress for the most part. Three pairs of eyes focused on the little white fluff-ball with a single light grey patch of fur over one of her eyes. She meowed, and everyone stilled. Mei cleared her throat and tried imitating the sound to throw off their classmates even though they were already certain everyone noticed the bundle of surprise in Leon's bag.

The Hongkonger then pulled out the little culprit and scolded her lightly in Cantonese, "Xiulan, what are you doing here!?" This wasn't good. Xiulan wasn't a _quiet_ little kitten so to speak. Normally, she was well-behaved, but when she was especially vying for attention, she tended to be rather loud and playful. Leon lost count of how many times the covers of his bed were shredded (usually because he forgot to clip her claws) when she wanted to play with her owner.

"Leon," Mei addressed him hurriedly with eyes that were lost between wanting to cuddle the kitten in his arms and scolding her friend. She quickly followed with a question in Mandarin, "What is your cat doing here?"

"I don't know!" Leon replied just as quietly in Mandarin. Although most of their classmates were of European descent, there were a few of Asian ancestry, and he couldn't be sure of who knew and who didn't know Chinese. His eyes lifted to the door, and a flood of relief washed over him when he saw that Mrs. Edelstein hadn't walked through the door just yet. "She probably crawled into my bag when I wasn't looking—or Alfred put her there as a joke." He pressed his lips against Xiulan's dark forehead and apologised in Cantonese as he placed her back in the bag to hide her from prying eyes, pulling the drawstring lightly to leave her some breathing air. "Mei, Cheng, I'm going to, like, skip home room. I'll be back at lunch—maybe."

"Leon!" Cheng exclaimed before he continued their Mandarin conversation, "Where are you going?"

"Home! Marianne is at her office, and Arthur is at his studio! Alfred and Matthew are at school, too, so all I have to do is, like, sneak out and pretend that nothing happened!" Unfortunately, nothing could possibly go as planned. Just as he was about to step through the door, Xiulan poked her head out of his backpack, nearly attracting the stares of his classmates, and meowed. Leon froze and decided to hold her in his arms instead, bolting through the halls with his head bowed so that nothing could see his face. He slipped out through the back, but just as he was about to bolt over the fence, Xiulan slipped out of his arms. "You are in _so much trouble_ ," he grumbled in Cantonese as he followed after the sound of her bell.

He knew he'd be a fool to try and chase after her given the kitten's superior agility. The best he could do was trying to trap her, but—although he wasn't quite sure of her breed—Xiulan was a particularly clever kitten as well. He wasn't so heartless as to leave her alone though; moreover, he was already so attached to her. Even Arthur and Marianne were fond of her. It was the first time Leon had ever asked them of something anyway; it was the first time he ever made a request.

When he had found her fishing out of a garbage can, he took her to a nearby fountain to help scrub the waste and filth off her fine coat. Something about her reminded him of someone he vaguely remembered—maybe himself. He honestly didn't know. Nonetheless, ever since then, she had taken to him and began to follow him around to the point where Leon had actually swept her into his arms and took her home. They've been together for how many months now? He could hardly count.

He followed her to the back of the school and even farther to the point where they were away from the high school entirely. He found her frolicking in the garden, the top of her pointed ears and the tip of her tail hardly even visible as she leapt into the colourful flowers, and chuckled.

"What? So that's it," he mused to himself. Unable to find it within himself to take her into his arms and keep her locked inside their home, Leon settled on a bench across from the flowerbed in which she was playing. A gentle zephyr blew past them, shaking the blades of grass, the leaves of trees, and the stems and petals of flowers. The warm sun beat down on him, and he soaked in the rays of light. Closing his eyes, he gently breathed in and out, focusing only on the ringing of Xiulan's bell. "I should to get to class before Arthur finds out," he mumbled to himself in Cantonese. "But whatever." His thoughts slipped away from him, and darkness surrounded him.

Even Xiulan's bell seemed to ring even further and further away, sounding distant yet, at the same time, close to him, before he couldn't even hear anything else at all.

The smell of Chinese food filled the room with the thick scent of soy sauce, fresh vegetables, and frying meat. He could feel his mouth watering the more he smelt the cooking; in a sense, it was quite homely. It reminded him of when Marianne came back home for a few hours to prepare dinner for the family before leaving to finish up her work. Instead of Chinese cooking though, she normally prepared French food and degraded her husband's sense of taste—or lack thereof. However, this smell wasn't quite like the kitchens at Chinese restaurants. There wasn't any loud shouting or any rush. This was leisurely and carefully prepared.

A light humming then floated throughout the room like a light breeze, tickling Leon's ear. A radio was playing, and he vaguely recognised the song as " _Tong Hua_ ," an old pop ballad but a classic and a sensation, nevertheless. He remembered playing it to Arthur once after hearing it play at one of Yao Wang's shops, and the Englishman had taken to the upright piano hidden away in his private home studio, where he also housed three different guitars and bass guitars, an electric keyboard, a sound deck, and a desktop that was installed with mixing and audio editing software. He also remembered his guardian trying to teach him as well once he had mastered the Chinese pop ballad, and Leon could still easily recall the positioning of his fingers against the black and ivory keys. Ever since then, Arthur taught him to play some piano and guitar, insisting that music was in his blood.

He lifted his hands, only to freeze when he saw that they were smaller than he had expected. It was as though he was a child again, and when he raised his head, his light brown eyes peered into the slightly curved screen of a box-shaped television he never remembered seeing in the Kirkland home. None of the furniture present has ever been seen in the Kirkland home.

The television was playing an episode of _Spongebob Squarepants_ that happened to be dubbed in Cantonese, and he could hardly make out his reflection against the glass. When he did, he found himself as a child. Reeling in his shock, he nearly missed the sound of the door being opened, and before he could even raise his head to glance over the person who had just entered the scene, a lukewarm box was placed into his tiny hands. A big hand ran through his short, feathery hair, that Leon found to be quite distant even though he was so close, and a deep voice told him in gruff Cantonese, "Happy birthday, kid. Eat up while they're warm."

Leon glanced down in his hands and peered through the plastic cover of the take-away box to see four large steamed peach buns. His stomach growled in response, making the man laugh as he marched into the kitchen, and Leon pulled open the cover of the box.

"Xiao Chun!" he heard a woman call for him. "Don't you dare eat those buns before dinner!"

"It's fine, Chun-Yan. Food is food," insisted the man from before.

Peering into the kitchen from where he sat in the living room, he saw two shadowy figures—far away and distant. He felt as though he knew them, yet at the same time he didn't. They were familiar, but they were also strangers.

"Hey, wake up."

Leon's eyes fluttered open only to stare into a pair of crystal clear violet orbs—like slivers of quartz and amethyst—and blinked once. The Icelandic boy was some distance away from him, and it took the Hongkonger a moment to realise that he was still sitting down on a bench while the newcomer was standing in front of him. His amber optics fell to his arms, where he found his kitten being suspending in mid-air because the Icelander was simply holding her underneath her forelegs. She meowed at her owner, trying to bat her tail against his classmate's wrist, squirming in discomfort.

"What, you don't know how to hold a cat?"

His classmate's brows furrowed together as though he was thinking long and hard about something. Noticing how he seemed to be biting his lip, Leon assumed he was reluctant to speak. More reluctantly than shyly, he responded slowly, "There's a proper way to hold a cat?" It sounded as if he was trying to keep his English in check, trying to speak cautiously, so that he wouldn't make mistakes. However, his accent bled through his words, and the colour that climbed up his neck, painting the tip of his ears, could only signal that he was embarrassed of how foolish his classmate thought he sounded. It was only a fleeting change, however, and after his silent, momentary chastisement, his Icelandic classmate stole a glimpse at Leon to gauge his reaction. Unfortunately, the Hongkonger remained completely indifferent.

Leon stretched out his hands, and the Icelander handed over his tiny little kitten carefully so that there was no scratching or biting involved. "Her claws are clipped," Leon teased playfully upon seeing the Icelander's nervousness, "and she's usually well-behaved. But, yeah, there's seriously a proper way to hold a cat when you're establishing trust or, you know, whatever. She's cool with me." Setting Xiulan down beside him, Leon then demonstrated how to pick her up. He first wrapped one hand under her body, flat against her rib, and another supporting her rear. "You can't leave her suspended." He then adjusted his arms so that his kitten's back was supported in his arms. "When you hold her, you have to support her back and paws."

When he felt Xiulan pawing him and adjusting his hold on her by herself, he allowed her to shift so that he was carrying her like a baby. She rested against his chest, her rear being supported by the crook of his elbow. With his free hand, he patted the seat beside him, and the Icelandic student reluctantly joined him. "It's lunch hour," the Icelander informed shortly. "It didn't look like you were coming back."

"You seriously looked for me?"

"Not really, I guess," the Icelander answered curtly. He averted his eyes and shrugged. Feeling Leon's pointed stare, silently demanding an explanation, the platinum blond gestured towards the flowerbed and their surroundings. Keeping his tongue in check, he explained cautiously, "I just like this garden. I found it yesterday during lunch break."

"Hm, so you ate by yourself."

"Is there a problem with that?" He looked affronted, and given his sharp, snappy response, Leon could only guess that he had forgotten to think about his words. The Hongkonger preferred it that way, actually. It was more refreshing, more relaxing, but he didn't say a word about it to his classmate. Who was he to tell someone what to do?

Instead, he replied curtly, mimicking the same tone his classmate had used earlier, "Not really, I guess."

He reclined against the back of the wooden bench and allowed his kitten to climb all over him. Just as she was carefully strutting along the back of the wooden bench like a tightrope, she leapt towards his classmate's shoulder and settled there, meowing lightly. He seemed bewildered by her sudden actions, but the blond didn't shrug her off his shoulder. He raised his hand and scratched her between her pointed ears with the pads of his fingers. Leon watched as Xiulan purred in contentment, finding the sight quite a mystery knowing that she was only really attached to her owner (though she does take a liking to beautiful things from what he's noticed). Finally, he asked of his European classmate, "Do you like it here—I mean, like, New York?"

"It's... okay."

Leon scoffed lightly in a form of laughter at his awkward response. "I think I seriously hated it here when I moved to America, too. Now it's, like, okay, I guess." All of the faces he's met flashed through his mind. "Once you make friends or something, everything gets a little better."

"You're from... Hong Kong, right?" the Icelander asked of him.

"Mm, yeah."

"Why did you move here?"

"Oh, I was adopted." A bit of shock crossed through the Icelander's visage, and shame filled his eyes as he tried to cover up his last question in order to pacify the tension he thought was there. Leon only laughed at this, however, and added, "It's cool, man—seriously. Like, don't sweat it. If I had a problem with it, I wouldn't have even told you. Hell, I don't even remember half of my childhood. Anything before age six? Gone. Seriously, I don't mind it, so you shouldn't either."

Rather, Leon was used to that reaction. He wasn't a problem child or a troubled teen, so he didn't really understand why everyone had to be sympathetic to his so-called plight. He was doing all right. He didn't know if he was happy, per se, but he certainly wasn't _miserable_ in New York. What threw him for a loop, however, was when his classmate mentioned, "I don't have parents either; they're dead."

Leon blinked. "Huh." It wasn't really a question. It was more of a sound that had acknowledged his classmate's words and reaffirmed that he didn't know how to be sympathetic. "Same here." At least your parents stuck around longer, Leon added silently. He wasn't sure if his classmate had received _that_ message though.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Leon felt his stomach growl loudly in dissent, and the Icelander only arched a fine eyebrow at the noise when Leon's free hand moved idly to rub and assuage his stomach. "You hungry, Ice?"

"'Ice'?" repeated his silver haired classmate dubiously. "Are you talking about me?"

"Since you're from Iceland."

"What's with that? That's kind of a half-assed nickname," remarked the taller teen.

Leon found that he preferred his rougher language as well instead of the polite pretence he had been using earlier. The Hongkonger supposed that he thought that there wasn't much of a need for the taller boy to hide anything from him—even the accent he seemed to dislike—but most people behaved similarly after exchanging a few words with Leon anyway. They appeared to sense that he wasn't the type to blab to others about secrets—any secret at all.

Observing his classmate even more closely, he found that a realisation had crossed the taller teenager's mind, dawning upon his pale features, before he inquired dryly of the shorter boy, "You don't know my name, do you? I'm Emil Steilsson. I sit in front of you in class."

"I know you do," Leon retorted brusquely. However, he didn't make a point of not knowing Emil's name, implying that he really didn't remember his classmate's name. Lifting up Xiulan so that she faced the taller student, he waved her right paw and said, "So, Emil, this is Xiulan, and I'm Leon."

"I knew that already—who you are," Emil muttered, brushing off Leon's words rather shyly despite the rough attitude he bore like a front. He faltered, unsure if he wanted to say anything more, before averting his eyes from the Hongkonger. "Do you want me to get you some food?" he asked the brunet sitting beside him. "Since you're hungry. You can't take her into the kitchen either. Probably."

"Nah, it's fine," the Hongkonger assured the pale boy. When another stomach growled, however, he couldn't suppress the smirk that crept onto his lips. Standing back up, he cradled his kitten cautiously in his arms so that she wouldn't slip away from him. He nodded his head to gesture for the Icelander to follow after him. "Let's grab some lunch."

"You can't take her into the cafeteria," Emil protested.

"Who said that we're heading to the lunch room?" retorted the East Asian. He pivoted on his heel and took a few steps away from his classmate. When he saw that the Icelandic boy was still seated on the bench, confused as hell, Leon sighed and called to him, "Come on, Ice! They're waiting!"

"'They'?" repeated the paler of the two sceptically. Nevertheless, he brought himself back to his feet when he heard his stomach growl loudly. He didn't question exactly what the Hongkonger was planning, nor was he sure that he had enough trust placed within the brunet to follow him anywhere. Still, Leon had saved him once from getting mugged by a group of thugs in an unknown place, so he supposed that the Hongkonger wouldn't try to get them into trouble.

Emil silently followed the Hongkonger away from the main building towards the Romulus Conservatory with mild bemusement. After all, the cafeteria was located within the main building, not any other of the branch schools, but he followed him inside nevertheless, curiosity piqued when he heard some music leaking through a few rooms, before stopping when Leon halted in front of one of the doors on the first floor. The platinum blond could feel the vibrations of heavy bass that could hardly be contained within the room, but without an ounce of hesitation, Leon pulled open the door with a single hand.

The sound of runners squeaking against the floor silenced, and the pop music was suddenly killed. He was now aware that Leon had brought them to a dance studio with mirrors laid on one wall and floors panelled with wooden planks. Recognising one of the two girls in the dance studio as Mei-Ling Lin from class and one of the two other boys as Cheng Wong, Emil felt somewhat discomfit in the room—unused to the tension of a dance practice. Everyone's attention was immediately focused on Leon, but he didn't seem bothered (even though he and Emil were the only ones still in uniform whereas everyone else was in gym attire for dance practice) as he should be as he shut the door and set down his kitten to let her roam freely within the studio floor.

He strolled over to a corner of the room and dug through the plastic bags before tossing Emil one of the treats he found—wrapped bread. Bringing it to his nose, he took a little whiff, finding it to be rather sweet. Still, he couldn't complain; food was food. He glanced over at Leon to thank him for the bread and found that the Hongkonger was already digging into a sweet bread of his own. "Ice, you probably already know Mei and Cheng. That's Lien and Kasem. They're from the class next door," Leon informed shortly in between bites of his sweet bread—still calling him by that annoying nickname. "Guys, this is Emil. He helped me with taking care of Xiulan."

"I thought that you were taking her home," Cheng mused.

"She ran off."

Laughing amiably, the older boy turned to Emil and gave him a warm smile. "Thanks for dealing with Leon. He can be a little overwhelming at times since it's a little hard to figure out what goes through his head," Cheng told his quiet classmate. "He's quite energetic as well even if it doesn't seem like it, so it makes it even harder to keep up with him."

"Are you, like, insulting me?"

"Of course not," Cheng replied teasingly.

"Why would we ever make fun of you?" Kasem followed up shortly. "After all, you're the most popular one here, Pretty Boy."

Leon rolled his eyes but didn't make a comment since Mei was quick to speak and bring everyone back into focus. "Anyway," she chirped, clapping her hands together energetically, "Leon, I finished choreographing the ballroom part, but we still need to practise it!"

"Then let's practise," Leon suggested casually before he finished the rest of his bread. "Ice, you can, like, just take a seat and make sure that Xiulan doesn't get into trouble or something." He dropped the empty wrapper back into the plastic bag and marched towards Mei, stretching out his hands. She huffed but accepted them nevertheless, pulling him to the centre of the room. When he saw Lien, Cheng, and Kasem shuffle out of the way, crowding around the bag of snacks, he asked of the Taiwanese dancer, "Is it just us?"

"Yeah, I think it'd be more dramatic if we partner up in the beginning. Plus, we're an odd number," Mei replied. "The others are on stage right with their backs turned to the audience. We'll move towards stage left. You start off in a group with the others with your back turned. Then when the first key plays, you turn around, and I enter from stage left. Starting with the first note, we approach each other. Lien, can you play the music?"

The Vietnamese girl obliged and marched over to Mei's iPhone. Pulling up her music and surfing through all of the play-lists, she finally found the piano ballad Mei wanted to use and counted down from three. After hitting play, Mei began to walk Leon through the steps, taking the lead herself and telling the Hongkonger to keep up. In response, he was highly receptive to Mei's moves, adapting to her every turn and her every step, from the tip of her toes to the tip of her fingers and to the incline of her head. Once they had gone through the motions several times for the introduction, they had Lien rewind the song once more, and from the very top, they danced again without stopping.

The first few moments, the two seemed to glide towards each other, and once they had joined hands—Leon's right hand resting on Mei's hip, Mei's right hand resting on Leon's shoulder—it seemed that they would never part. When Leon stepped back, Mei stepped forward. They glided side to side, spun once in an elegant movement, and when Mei was twirled under their joined arms, Leon was quick to bring her back to his side lest she travelled too far away. Their legs intertwined, and Mei was lifted off the ground. It was like they were gliding, like their feet weren't even trapped on the floor, so fluidly, so gracefully.

They were beautiful. Emil couldn't tear his eyes away from the pair. He hadn't even realised that they had danced for hardly even a minute until Kasem commented that it was such a shame the intro was only around forty-five seconds long.

"They have some great chemistry," Cheng whispered to Emil when he saw that his classmate was stunned by what he had witnessed. "They've been close ever since I've introduced them to each other—music, fashion, bubble tea, and now _dancing_." The taller student seemed to be amused by this notion—if not a little prideful for his accomplishment. "Leon didn't really open up much until he met Mei."

"I wouldn't be surprised if the two of them had gotten together," Kasem added.

Emil, unsure of how to respond to this, muttered quietly, "Is that so?"

Whereas the other boys didn't seem to take notice of his rhetorical inquiry, Lien cast him a glance before stopping the song. Mei and Leon then approached the others and immediately asked for feedback—well, Mei did. Leon just settled down next to the bag of snacks, seating himself beside Emil, and pulled out a bright red box with chocolate coated biscuits pictured on the front—Pocky, the platinum blond read to himself—as well as an unopened bottle of water. He tossed the drink towards Emil, who caught it clumsily in his hands even though he was only a couple of centimetres away, and the Icelander only mumbled a thanks under his breath. He wasn't sure if Leon had heard him, but since the Hongkonger offered him one of the chocolate coated biscuits, Emil was fairly certain that he didn't really care.

"You know," Leon said as he uncapped his own water bottle, "you're welcome here any time if that garden gets too quiet for you. Mei and Kasem can get a little loud, but, like, if you're lonely, then why not just come here for lunch? We're here everyday for practice."

"Don't just assume that I'm lonely," retorted Emil. He wouldn't admit it aloud even if it was true though. "But... thanks... again."

Leon shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "There's nothing to thank me for, you know. Nobody here hates you or anything, so you're always welcome here." Resting his back against the wall, Leon allowed for Xiulan to climb onto his lap as he thought aloud, dropping his voice to a whisper as though to utter a secret only meant to Emil's ears, "I mean, when we were dancing earlier, Mei told me—in Mandarin—that she totally thinks you're cute."

His voice was just as monotonous as ever, and his expression hardly even changed when he had told Emil about Mei's thoughts. He only seemed the slightest bit amused when he caught sight of how red the tips of Emil's ears were. "Are you sure you should be telling me this?" muttered the Icelander as he buried his head in his arms after pulling his knees to his chest and making himself appear smaller.

"Are you seriously embarrassed?" Leon mused.

It's not that I'm _embarrassed_ , Emil protested quietly. Rather, he wondered how Leon was taking the news. After all, Cheng and Kasem had mentioned that the Hongkonger and Taiwanese girl had chemistry, and that must mean that the two of them were particularly close. If what he said—about being... _cute_ (though Emil refused to believe it)—was to interfere with their relationship in any way, he wouldn't want that. Although he couldn't say definitely, from what he's witnessed and experienced, Leon couldn't possibly be a _terrible_ person.

"You two seem close," Emil commented.

"Mei and me?" Leon inquired sceptically as he considered the Icelander's remark. "I guess. We've been friends for a long time. I know what she likes and what she hates—for the most part, that is." A devious smirk stretched across his lips in what would appear to be a lazy grin, but despite the deadpan delivery of his words, the mischievous spark in his eyes what all that he needed to express his amusement. "You interested? She's cute and tiny, so it's not like it's the first time anyone's hit on her."

Emil's head shot out of his arms as he glowered at Leon with reddened cheeks upon hearing that playful taunt. Although a part of him knew that his classmate was most likely joking with him, he couldn't help but feel a bit affronted with how he was lumped together with people who have "hit on" Mei; surely, he had a little bit more class than that! "H-How—how could you _say that_?" he spluttered out brazenly. "We've only just met!"

He wasn't quite sure how to react when Leon's hand slapped over his lips to hide the wide grin that was splitting his face in half. He turned his head away from Emil, hiding his expression from the taller boy, but the fact that his shoulders were shaking was rather blatant. The first question that crossed the Icelander's mind was, "Is he laughing at me?"

When a loud burst of laughter filled the studio, resonating off the walls, Emil stilled while Leon was nearly rolling on the floor. The Hongkonger was holding his stomach as though it would implode within his body, and the taller boy couldn't exactly see what was so funny. Even the others had stared at Leon like he had grown a second head; it must have been strangely uncharacteristic of him to laugh so loudly and so uncontrollably. Once he finally calmed down, Leon cracked a smile at Emil and explained curtly, "Your face—it looked like you were witnessing a puppy being kicked or something. Come on, what I said couldn't, like, be _that_ bad."

"It's not that it was _bad_ ," Emil argued. "It was kind of like..." he faltered, trying to piece together what he wanted to say and how to translate it into English. "...like, 'Who do you take me for?' or something. I was surprised you would even suggest something like that; to anyone else, it would have felt like you were implying how... how shallow, I guess, they were or something."

"Like, you don't have to worry about that or anything, you know?" Leon retorted as his smile slipped back into its usual half-hearted smirk—as though he couldn't even put in effort to smile. "I mean, I kind of, like, figured you wouldn't be the kind of guy who'd ask out a girl in a heartbeat or whatever. Like... you'd probably be attracted to someone at a glance, but you seem to be the type who wouldn't jump into a relationship. Slow and steady wins the race—or, you know, whatever."

"Thanks... I guess."

"Oh, yeah," Leon recalled shortly. He dropped his voice lower so that nobody could overhear them. "It's your skin, by the way."

"What about my skin?" Emil replied just as quietly, becoming a bit self-conscious as he felt his physical appearance being touched upon as a topic of discussion.

Of all people at the school, he felt as though he was the strangest looking student in the entire population. Several students were of African descent, others were of Spanish or Latino descent, some were of Asian descent, and most were of European descent. However, where others had blond or brown or even red hair, Emil was the only student to have platinum blond hair so light that it nearly looked silver or white—especially under light. He was also freakishly pale as a result of living so far up north that he hardly even bothered himself to get any sun when it was out and shining; recently, people have began to wonder if he was actually albino as well.

"Mei likes the colour," Leon replied shortly. "I can see why, too. Asian girls have a thing for pale, flawless skin. It has to do with history or a cultural thing, I guess."

"History?" Emil found himself repeating, his interest and curiosity piqued.

"Yeah, like, back in the day, only the rich women stayed indoors while the peasants worked the farmland, so they were tanner than the nobles. Pale skin somehow became a beautiful feature since you were pretty much shut inside the palace. I guess, like, all the princesses were pale or something. I dunno."

Emil wasn't sure if being compared to a shut-in or a princess made him feel any better about his complexion, so he didn't respond to Leon's explanation. Instead, he said, "Oh."

"Yeah." The Hongkonger shrugged once more. "No worries about Mei though. She totally sees you in, like, a feminine light or something."

"...what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Well, I guess you're kind of girly."

Emil narrowed his eyes at Leon in distaste, unsure of how to respond, until he mumbled, "At least I'm taller than you."

Leon huffed, unable to refute that statement, retorting, "I'm totally manlier than you though. I know martial arts _—_ and how to dance."

"How is that even relevant? Girls know how to do that, too!"

"Hey, Leon, Emil!"

The boys glanced over at Cheng, who was holding the door open with an amused smile on his lips. "You coming?" asked the Macanese student.

"I'm skipping," Leon stated firmly as he held up the kitten in his arms. "Half of the day is already over anyway, so, like, what does it matter?"

"I'm not covering for you any more then," Cheng retorted, still wearing that friendly smile on his lips. "Emil, you coming then?"

The Icelander glanced back at his newly made friend, who simply waved his hand in a shooing motion as though telling him to scram. He offered a wry smirk—or, rather, a slight upturn of his lips—and told the platinum blond, "You don't want to be late. I hear some teachers crazy strict on kids who skip, and since, like, I was never reported to be at school in the first place, nobody can really do anything to me right now."

"All right," the blond agreed shortly. "Then... what about you?"

"I'll just go home. I can't keep Xiulan around here," Leon replied. "I'll deal with Arthur later if he gets a call from school."

"Arthur?" Emil repeated curiously.

"Yeah," Leon affirmed, "my guardian."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Standing onto his feet, Leon adjusted his hold on Xiulan and offered a hand towards Emil, who accepted his help. After stepping past the doors of the dance studio, the two of them went their own separate ways. Both of them were unaware of the little glances sent their way from one another until Emil had reached the staircase leading to all of the music rooms, where Cheng had showed him a message displayed on the Macanese's iPhone. "Leon says thanks for taking care of Xiulan while he was out," the older boy read aloud even though Emil could certainly read what was on the screen.

"I-It wasn't a big deal or anything..." Emil replied shyly, unused to speaking with the Macanese boy.

"Then you can tell him yourself," Cheng responded in kind. He stretched out his hand and said, "Give me your phone. I'll enter Leon's number for you."

"Is that... okay?" Emil inquired hesitantly.

"Yeah, you two seem to get along pretty well even though you've just met," Cheng chimed. "I'm sure he'd be fine if you had his phone number. You're his type anyway."

At the last statement, Emil flushed red with embarrassment. Rendered speechless, he couldn't even make a sound, and stunned into silence, he wasn't even sure how to react to Cheng's rouse. The Macanese student laughed at Emil's reaction, still holding out his hand patiently, before he explained his previously spoken words, "Leon appreciates quiet people. His friends are loud, and his family is even louder. He's a silent tough guy himself though, so that's why."

Somewhat aware that Cheng wouldn't give up until Emil handed over his phone, he quickly unlocked his older iPhone model—smaller in height and a bit clunky in weight compared to the recent sleeker models—and handed it to his classmate. Once he had adjusted to Emil's operating system, Cheng pulled up Leon's number on his own phone and punched it into Emil's shortly afterwards.

Just as the Macanese student handed back the iPhone, Mei slipped past them and into another dance studio (used for ballet from what Emil could tell) right before the bells rang to begin the next session of classes. The Taiwanese girl smiled warmly at Emil, who blushed at the attention, although it seemed as though she was keeping a secret to herself.

Discreetly, underneath his desk and out of the teacher's line of sight, Emil replied to the message Leon had Cheng deliver to him, "This is Emil. Cheng gave me your number. Also, about your cat, it's not a big deal." He hesitated for a moment before his thumb pressed against the send icon. The reply was almost instantaneous.

"No, seriously, thanks for taking care of her."

* * *

Leon carefully pushed open the front door, and at the first chance she got, Xiulan leapt from his arms onto the panelled floor of the main entrance. She strolled over to the sofa and pounced onto the unsuspecting lap she found there while Leon was still shuffling into the house.

Sharp Cantonese, faintly accented by a foreign tongue unused to speaking the language twenty-four hours a day, rang throughout the house. "You're home early," remarked Arthur the moment Leon stepped into the living room. The Hongkonger froze at the sight of his British guardian, who had stopped tuning his guitar the moment he heard the door click open.

"You're home early, too, Father," Leon replied in a more fluid Cantonese tongue. "Did something happen at the studio?"

At the mention of his recording studio, the blond sighed, his thick brows furrowing, making the slight wrinkles on his visage deepen subtly with the scowl, before he forced himself to smile so not to make his child worry. "Don't worry about it, Xiao Chun. Things have happened before, and it's not the first time a pop star has been difficult even though everyone can vouch for my composing and producing skills. Everything has been okay so far despite that, hasn't it?"

Unable to argue with his father, Leon nodded stiffly, but before he could make a move towards his room, Arthur patted the spot next to him on the sofa and added in a rather sardonic tone, "How about you tell me all about school today?" Unable to refuse his father's request, Leon took the seat next to the older man and confessed that, yes, indeed, he had skipped the remainder of school to bring home a certain stowaway.

Fortunately, Arthur made a deal with Leon that he wouldn't tell Marianne if Leon didn't tell Marianne about the mess at the office. The Frenchwoman worried too much, after all, with reason.

* * *

 **A/N:**

A huge thank you for all the favourites and follows. I'd like to thank the guest who took the time to review in the first chapter as well! It was a warm welcome to the HongIce community here. Anyway,

I figured that, in this AU, Arthur and Leon would be closer when they're alone and when there's nobody to judge their relationship. Arthur tried to learn Mandarin when he was dating Chun-Yan to try to appeal to her father (alas, to no avail), and when he adopted Leon, he tried learning Cantonese from some of the locals in Chinatown. Over ten years, Leon accepted Arthur as his father rather than just a father figure, but he still feels awkward calling him "Dad" in front of other people. The two of them have a hard time showing affection, but how Arthur is willing to learn different languages to communicate with Leon and how Leon calls him "Father" in Cantonese is a decent way of illustrating their relationship in my opinion. Eventually, I want to show Leon comfortable enough to troll Arthur, but we'll see.

On another note, Osaka Tsukomi is actually Osaka Prefecture, a character who's been seen with Japan in a couple of strips, and his appearance is based off his modern getup rather than his samurai look. The name Tsukomi is taken from Hoke Tsukomi, a character from Himaruya's _Barjona Bombers_ whom he was based off. I've tried making him a friendly, energetic character, but he isn't as wary around foreigners like his canon counterpart.

Xiulan, the naughty little kitten, slipped into Leon's backpack before he left for school. Knowing Leon, he probably didn't mind her little stunt as much as he minded throwing Arthur for a loop for something he didn't do on purpose. He'd rather be known as someone who skipped class rather than the idiot who brought a cat to school.

In the dance studio scene, Leon's friends are in their gym uniforms since it's more appropriate attire in which to dance hip-hop and contemporary styles than trousers or skirts. Also, assuming that this is a Tuesday (as the previous chapter was most likely a Monday), students at the high school division of World Academy are currently studying in their fields (sciences, humanities, or arts) instead of general core requirements. They meet in home-room to take attendance and then scatter where they need to be—dance lessons, voice lessons, piano lessons, etc. for example in the conservatory side.

Leon and his friends do what they can in the dance studio during lunch—including snacking—especially in the case that a performance is approaching, and then change back into their uniform after they're done. Of the dancers, I think Leon and Mei would be most compatible as partners because of their mutual interests and similar cultural backgrounds. However, Hong Kong/Taiwan isn't a romantic pairing in this story.

Music References:

There will be some mentioning (although it might actually be "a lot" rather than "some" if I think about it more) of East Asian artists here and there, notably Japanese, Korean, and Taiwanese artists.

I'm not a big fan of boy bands, but MBLAQ is probably the one group I listen to and hold a certain amount for respect for—especially for their dances and general dorky nature off-camera. It was originally a five-member boy band from Korea created by entertainer Bi Rain, but currently there are only three members (as of early 2015). The début song Mei was talking about is "Oh Yeah" that has a somewhat difficult dance choreographed towards the song's break-down. (It's not impossible to cover though.) It's a catchy song that can get easily stuck in your head.

Originally, I was planning on having them perform something from TVXQ/DBSK or a song from SHINee or even some Taiwanese pop/rap songs, but I think I was taken by the flips and handstands in "Oh Yeah." Leon's comment about accidentally kicking someone in the face while practising wasn't a joke. It was based on personal experiences and, hey, accidents happen. Nobody's perfect the first time around.

The song in Leon's dream sequence, "Tong Hua" (translated into "Fairy Tale"), is a Mandopop ballad by Malaysian singer-songwriter Michael Wong from 2005. It's considered his strongest single by his fans as it is arguably the most successful Chinese language song, and as of 2007, it is still among the top in Hong Kong karaoke charts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Testing Limits**

For the past few days, Emil has been dropping by the dance studio more frequently for lunch when he wasn't receiving supplementary instructions on his piano piece for an upcoming examination for all of the musically trained students in the conservatory, and it was noticeable to the others that he and Leon had been getting especially closer. Cheng was quite amused at the sight, commenting that it had taken him nearly two months for Leon to open up to him, yet the Hongkonger had no qualms speaking with Emil. Perhaps it was because the latter was quieter than anyone that he or Leon has ever met.

Mei brought up the suggestion first, asking Emil if he wanted to join their club, and the Icelander responded with red cheeks, insisting that he couldn't possibly join. He wasn't a dancer—or so he claimed even though he's never tried—as he was a pianist, and he would only bring down the quality of their dancing. Leon remarked that it was only stage fright and that Emil shouldn't be so quick to judge himself when he hasn't even tried to dance with them. Insisting that Emil shouldn't be so reserved, the Hongkonger then proceeded to seat Emil on the studio floor and told him to stretch his limbs, and when he moved behind the taller boy to push him forward by the shoulders—gently, of course—Emil was quick to tap out with several Icelandic curses they couldn't understand. What they could make out of the slurred mess was, "Leon, it _hurts_!"

Leon collapsed on the floor next to Emil and then demonstrated the stretching motions himself, placing his legs as far apart as they could go without lifting them off the floor and leaning forward until most of his front was pressed flatly against the wooden panels. "Ice, you're seriously not flexible at all," Leon commented.

"I don't think Cheng and I could even do it to _that_ extent. Even Mei and Lien have a little bit of trouble with that," Kasem mused as he watched Leon stretch himself on the dance floor. "It's painful just looking at you, Leon. You're just an exception. Look at you! You're nearly doing splits!" The only other dancer in their group who could attempt splits was Mei because of her years of training as a ballerina.

Pushing himself off the floor, Leon took Kasem's words as a challenge of sorts and proceeded to adjust his legs so that he really was doing the splits. Emil rolled his eyes at the sight, though he truly was a bit impressed (that Leon hadn't hurt himself... _yet_ ), and remarked a bit sardonically, "You're really something."

"He's a prodigy," Mei boasted proudly as though it was her discovery of his natural talent, oblivious to the Icelander's dry, terse tone. Well, without a doubt, she had introduced dancing to him, but most of his skills were brought out by the instructor his guardian had hired to break him out of developing bad habits and improving his footwork. Really, she had hit the jackpot when discovering Leon. He not only had a good face, but he was also a genius or natural talent of sorts.

"Being a prodigy or whatever has nothing to do with stretching. We just have to, like, get Ice used to it or something," Leon declared as a matter of fact in his usual deadpan expression, ignoring Emil's previous comment.

"I said that I wasn't joining," Emil persisted.

"You say that _now_ ," Leon retorted, "but the Academy rules state that, like, you have to join at least one extracurricular by the time you enter secondary school or something."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." Leon shifted his legs so that he was stretching in another position. "Since you're here pretty much all the time, you might as well join. You have like a month before the teachers start getting on your case."

Emil considered this possibility before remarking, "I think I'll hold off on that since I still have a month. There might be something that catches my attention—I don't know."

"Like what?" Leon mused aloud. "The choir? Or maybe the newspaper club?"

"There are a bunch of different clubs though," Lien commented. "I've heard there was even an Earth Defence Club."

At the mention of the obscure club, Leon clicked his tongue—familiar with the name and with the founder, in fact, who happened to be the very same person boasting of becoming a fireman and saving the lives of others—a bonafide hero that lived under the same roof as the genius dancer himself. A few minutes before their lunch break ended, the dance club and Emil packed up their snacks and threw away their trash before leaving for their respective classrooms.

The week of the club festival, however, most of the school were busy with preparations, decorating hallways and renovating the gyms and field for display. Stalls were set up along the courtyard, and the main entrance was packed with flyers and signs pointing to certain classrooms and other locations where attractions would be set up. Tickets were up for purchase for outsiders to come on-campus and observe what the extracurricular clubs have to offer for student interest and diversity. Emil left the dance club to whatever they had up their sleeves the entire week until the time of their performance.

He had made sure to neglect telling his uncle and his brother about the festival their school was hosting over the weekend while he slipped out of the apartment, telling his uncle that he would be with Leon. Mathias waved him goodbye, and Emil strolled in the direction of campus, working against the crowded streets of New York that pushed him in the opposite direction, while sending a quick text message to Leon that he would be arriving in a few minutes.

After arriving on campus, he was overwhelmed by the crowds he had found there. Although he was slightly aware that World Academy attracted quite a bit of attention from the general public, he hadn't expected the fact that so many people would appear for such a small festival. Of course, he was proven wrong when he made note of other people purchasing "exotic" snacks from other cultures at the booths lined up on the courtyard. There were small gaming booths arranged for entertainment that resembled carnival stalls, and the sports clubs had gathered on the field to take turns for having a match with the spectators.

Emil approached the auditorium within the music conservatory, where he found a reasonable crowd of people seated in front of the stage. The choir had just shuffled off-stage, and just as the MC was about to announce the next act, Emil's phone vibrated in the back pocket of his denim jeans. He slipped the iPhone into his hand and skimmed over the message, smiling when he saw Leon's short, "Wish me luck!"

He tucked his phone back into his pocket without shooting a reply, knowing that Leon was unlikely to check his phone right before he was to perform, and slipped into one of the seats in the back. The lights in the auditorium dimmed right when the MC finished announcing the name of the next act—the dance club's very own Far East 5 dance crew—and a spotlight fell upon Leon. The Hongkonger's back faced the audience, and he was wearing the outfit they had discussed earlier this week. Leon donned a sleeveless, black sweater that revealed his lean arms with the hood pulled over his head and a single wristband over his right wrist. A pair of blue skinny jeans and high-top runners completed the look.

The sound of a piano flooded the auditorium, and a light flashed upon Mei as she entered the stage. Like Leon, she was dressed in a sleeveless hooded sweater, only that she had a pair of detachable sleeves donning her dainty arms, with a pair of denim shorts covered by a sarong wrap like a skirt. The two dancers stepped closer to one another, gradually and slowly, before finding meeting in the centre. Like they had practised, they twirled about the stage once, and when Mei glided away from Leon, he was quick to pull her back. She slipped under their arms, joined together by clasped hands, and then hooked their legs together so that Leon was practically carrying her. She dipped down, and the tempo of the song changed.

The instruments shifted from a serenading piano to traditional Asian instruments—lutes and flutes and drums that Emil couldn't possibly name—and the dance immediately changed to match with the pace. The sarong wrapped around Mei's waist was undone and tossed to the side while the rest of the stage lights flashed on to reveal the rest of the dancers. They turned around, snapping their fans, and began their dance in steps Emil couldn't even fathom—too fast for him to break down the movements and understand how his friends were moving—and Lien took the lead for most parts of the song.

The fast-pace slowed down some to allow a jazzy intermission with Kasem taking the focus, and the song then recovered its faster pace. However, it faded out with the ballad and Leon and Mei's pseudo-ballroom dance. Just as the audience was about to clap, Emil along with the rest of them, another song started up with mostly foreign lyrics Emil couldn't understand. It was unlike the first language in the other song, but it was likely to be another Asian language. There were a few shouts in the crowd, probably from those who recognised the song, and then an appreciative cheer when the others broke into a hip-hop style once again with quick actions Emil couldn't break down.

There was plenty of flips, handstands, body rolls, and popping actions accompanied by flowing arm movements. It was a lively song that involved quite a bit of jumping and fist-pumping. What had caught him off-guard was how Leon nearly stripped off his shirt right before the break down during the hook, revealing his abs for the audience, that caused quite a stir among their female audience members especially. The instrumental break was filled with what Emil guessed to be break dancing before fading out with several claps matching the beats, pulling the audience into action, and ending with a striking pose.

It was a sexy song to say the least.

The cheers of the audience were nearly faded out by the firecrackers in the background.

Everyone on-stage turned their attention to Leon, who was shuffling towards stage right like nothing had happened, and the water sprinklers overhead nearly activated because of the smoke until someone had bravely stomped on the dying embers. The audience could have sworn that there was a loud shout (first, there was an, "Aiya!" followed by angry Chinese) from backstage.

* * *

"You're crazy," Emil remarked dryly as he flipped another page of the novel in his hands. "Did you know that?"

"You're the one who joined the book club when there was, like, only one other member," Leon retorted as he dropped his head atop his arms on the surface of the desk as the seconds ticked away after school.

The Icelandic boy scoffed lightly. "That's the reason why I joined it," the silver haired student insisted. "There aren't many members because there aren't any competitions or anything notable about it, so there are less meetings. Even if there are meetings, not everyone shows up or reads the book, but on my CV it'll look as though I enjoy reading."

"Which you don't?"

"Which I do," Emil replied, "but only when I feel like it."

Leon scoffed lightly, and Emil knew that, by now, it wasn't an act of derision but just how Leon tended to laugh. The amusement was implied only by the slight upward curve of Leon's lips. "You're actually kind of a lazy guy, aren't you?" remarked the Hongkonger before poking Emil in the side. "All flab!" he chimed idly in his usual unchanging voice before his hand was swatted away by the Icelander. Chuckling quietly under his breath, he then sighed and buried his head inside his arms. "Cute," he remarked sarcastically. "Why don't you just join the piano club or something?"

"I didn't want to deal with other people who would ridicule me and my playing," Emil answered bluntly with a tinge of resentment in his voice.

"Isn't it just constructive criticism?"

"Trust me," the Icelander mumbled, "I would know when it's _constructive_ criticism."

Leon shrugged, but in a way, he understood. The ballerinas in Mei's classes behaved similarly, silently judging one another behind false pleasantries and such. Of course, that kind of behaviour wasn't exclusive to the ballerinas; dancers of other styles were guilty of the same conduct. If you made a single mistake or even if you were exceptionally gifted, if—in any kind of way—you stood out from the others, then it would be held against you for the rest of your high school career. It was part of the reason why Leon and his friends were sometimes treated as outcasts by a select few while some others praised their "innovative styles" for trying to blend their cultures into a mixture of East Meets West.

"I get it," Leon assured the Icelander, but he didn't say anything more. After all, he was sure that the taller boy understood. Jealousy and other dark emotions were common, especially in competitive fields such as the performing and fine arts. One day, the friend sitting beside you could rise in fame while you were still stuck at the bottom of the pyramid, and, stealing a glance at Leon, Emil could definitely see that happening.

Leon was a born entertainer. He had a pretty face that was carved between handsome and beautiful, masculine and feminine, and he possessed a calming voice. He could dance, and he knew martial arts. From what he's learnt of his friend, Leon even knew how to play a bit of guitar and piano. If he could just sing and act, then he could sell as one of the East Asian idols that were so popular across the globe. (And Emil strongly doubted that his friend was tone deaf.) It was just his personality that was a little quirky, but Emil certainly didn't mind—for the most part.

"On the other hand, something must be wrong with your head," Emil commented blatantly as he flipped another page. "Only an idiot would think of setting off firecrackers in an _auditorium_. You're lucky they didn't expel you—or even suspend you in spirit of the festivities—and that you only got off with two weeks of detention."

"Funny how the detention room is the classroom the book club uses," Leon mused.

"Did you even catch anything that I've said?"

"Sure, I did."

Rolling his eyes, Emil dropped the subject and returned to his book, allowing Leon to take his desired nap right after school. Silence filled the room and stilled the two of them for maybe half an hour. Emil was trapped within the words of his novel, and Leon was stuck within a lucid state, caught between the borders of fully immersing himself in dreaming and lingering in awareness. Finally, he relinquished himself of reality, closing his eyes to what he sees and knows, and dove into a world of sleep and dreams.

 _What's with this dream?_

That was the first thought that had crossed his mind. He knew that it was probably normal not to remember parts of his childhood, but Leon couldn't help but feel as though something was wrong with him for not remembering anything beyond when he was six years old.

Still, here he was in a bedroom he's only ever seen in his dreams filled with building blocks and toy cars and trains and picture books. He busied himself with the tinkering toys, trying to build a new town in which his family could live, while the grown-ups were shouting in the living room. He could make out his father's—no, not Arthur, but another man he supposed was his father—arguing with another man, an elderly voice that reminded him vaguely of Sifu _—_ but harsher and more jarring, stricter and sterner.

There was a loud clatter that made him jump from his seat, and instinctively he shot onto his feet and darted underneath his bed. He covered his ears and stilled his breathing. There was a sharp shrill sounding throughout the flat—his mother's hysterical voice, maybe—before the sound of a body hitting the floor. Again, there was yet another outburst, and he shrunk into himself, making himself smaller, before a tense silence filled the room.

"Xiao Chun? Xiao Chun?"

" _Hey, Leon, are you okay?_ "

Caramelised honey brown eyes fluttered open, staring into worried violet depths, before Leon pushed himself off the surface of his desk. His back pressed against the back of his chair, and when he raised a hand to hold his head did he realise that beads of cold sweat were dripping from his forehead. "Yeah," he replied uncertainly. "I think it was, like, a bad dream or something." He noticed that Emil had closed his novel.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Leon answered tersely. "I don't even remember it. Everything was so vague." That much was true. He didn't see any faces. He didn't recognise the setting. He didn't know the voices beyond his closed door. He didn't know what was happening then—only that everything was suddenly _very scary_. When he glanced at his friend and saw the disbelief that crossed his pale features, Leon sighed and persisted, "It's true. I don't really remember what happened."

Knowing that it was better to leave the subject untouched, Emil retreated for now, but he gave Leon a slight warning look. He glanced at the clock, noting that there was a quarter of an hour left of Leon's detention, before he informed the Hongkonger shortly, "I'm going to head to your house to study for the history exam tomorrow. Probably." He stole a glimpse at the Hongkonger's expression only to find that nothing had changed—unsurprising in spite of the haunting dream—and then inquired, "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure," replied the East Asian boy as he slipped out his phone from his pocket and unlocked it to play some games to kill the remainder of time. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Maybe—depends—if I stay long enough, I guess."

"Mm, you should stay for dinner then. Marianne likes you since you eat her food like you've been starving for _days_. Plus, you're pretty."

Emil stared disbelievingly at Leon once again. His first couple of words flew past the Icelander, and instead the last statement lingered in his mind. "Why does every girl and woman that _you_ know think that I'm _pretty_?" He found it especially hard to believe considering that Leon's guardian looked _at least_ ten years younger. Not only that, but Mei and Lien were also quite cute. Then there was Leon, who didn't even try to deny it in his friend's defence.

"It's true," Leon insisted. "Like," he reached out and brushed his fingers through Emil's hair momentarily, "it's short, but your hair has a pretty colour and nice texture. Plus, your skin is pale but flawless as far anyone can see since you hide everything with your jackets, sweaters, and blazers, and your eyes are a unique colour. I've never seen anyone with purple eyes before—except for the Russian who sometimes has business with Sifu—but he's, like, seriously creepy."

Not to mention, Leon thought to himself, his hands are beautiful. His fingers were long—a bit wiry—yet dainty, developed from years of playing piano. They weren't as calloused as Arthur's hands, who had grown up playing guitar, electric bass, a bit of drums, and piano as well as several years of hard labour from what Leon has heard, but they were, in a sense, rather noble albeit in a humble sense. If one didn't observe carefully, one would definitely miss that elegance Emil's hands exuded. Maybe it was, like, a piano thing—whatever.

Huffing indignantly, Emil grumbled something in Icelandic that sounded like a complaint to Leon's ears. Nevertheless, he shuffled closer to Leon's desk, and the Hongkonger placed his phone so that the two of them could easily see his screen. "What is this?" Emil asked as his eyes skimmed over the colourful orbs and cute little monsters.

"It's a puzzle RPG," Leon answered. "You have to line up at least three matching orbs in order to attack the enemy."

"What the hell?" Emil muttered. "So you're a sitting duck if you don't have any orbs to swap."

"Just rearrange the order of the orbs like so," Leon murmured as he dragged his finger across the screen, altering the location of the multi-coloured orbs at the bottom of the screen. "It's a puzzle, so there has to be a solution as long as your HP doesn't run out."

"This is all you've been doing for the past two weeks?"

"Pretty much," came the honest reply. "It's a way to kill time since playing my DS or PSVita would be, like, way too obvious. It's a fad, but I think I'm jumping off the bandwagon soon. It's not as fun compared to when you first start out."

After completing the level, Leon handed his phone to Emil to try, and fifteen minutes passed by where the Hongkonger was coaching the silver haired boy how to play the app. However, the latter merely pointed out flaws in the logic and game mechanics all the meanwhile, and the former was only shrugging nonchalantly. As they exited the classroom upon the last few minutes of Leon's detention, the pair quietly trudged downstairs and off-campus while sharing a pair of earphones joined to Leon's phone, listening to a music library filled with Japanese pop and rock songs as well as a handful of Chinese pop and rap Emil couldn't understand (but he had to admit that it sounded pretty good) and a bit of Korean songs. Although most of his songs were in East Asian languages, there were a fair bit that were in English as well, but Emil couldn't quite name the artist.

Having been around Leon and the others often enough, the Icelander could differentiate the differences between East Asian languages though he still couldn't hear the differences between Cantonese and Mandarin even though Mei, Cheng, and Leon argued that they were like separate languages. Mei often remarked that she couldn't understand a single word of Cantonese while Cheng only knew a few terms. They demonstrated by reading the same Chinese characters aloud in Mandarin and Cantonese, even going so far as writing down the _pingyin_ , to demonstrate the different pronunciation despite the same meaning. It was like how Japanese uses Chinese characters but have different readings for each one even though the meaning was similar if not the same.

Diving into the crowded streets of New York, Leon was quick to grab hold of Emil's wrist. After the Icelander's first experience walking home from school, the Hongkonger found it hard to believe that he could easily combat the persistence of the heavily congested streets and string his way through so that he wouldn't be carried away by the moving current. Every time the two of them walked home together, he would hold onto Emil's thin wrist or the fabric of his sleeve to make sure that he hadn't disappeared in the blink of an eye. Although rather hot-tempered, Emil was generally mild-mannered and reserved in front of other people. It was hard to see him shove his way through the New Yorkers and not become as lost as the tourists here and there. By now, Emil didn't mind the contact, recognising as some awkward form of concern from the shorter boy.

When they finally arrived in front of Leon's home, a modest town house located a fair distance away from the heart of the city, a powerful ballad flooded Emil's left ear with lyrics sung by a soulful alto in Chinese accompanied by a sorrowful piano. "She has a pretty voice," the Icelander commented as Leon fiddled with the key to the front gate, releasing Emil's hand and unlocking the gate. "What is she saying?"

"Basically," Leon replied as the two of them strolled down the front of the Kirkland residence, approaching the front door, "she's singing about this couple who really loved each other from the standpoint of one of the lovers, but they had to break up because there was way too many hardships in their way. Time goes on, but she stays in the past—unmoving with time—and sees her ex being happy with someone else—with a family and everything."

"Oh."

"Yeah, ' _oh_.'" He cracked a smirk at his taller friend and remarked, "Like, what were you expecting? It definitely wasn't anything _happy_."

Flushing in embarrassment, Emil shoved his friend lightly as the brunet unlocked the front door and grumbled, "Shut up. You're annoying."

"Whatever, just get in the house," Leon responded dismissively as he pulled open the door and stepped inside first, greeting Xiulan who was quick to slip between his legs in a warm, friendly and affectionate welcome. After Emil tottered after him meekly, feeling a bit intimidated by the sheer size of the interior, the Hongkonger closed and locked the door before kicking off his shoes as per habit. Instead of leaving them at the doorway, however, knowing that Arthur would complain about tripping over his shoes every now and then, Leon carried them upstairs and to his room, where he placed them neatly on a rack that proudly displayed his collection of runners and boots that was almost as impressive as his collection of headphones and his vast closet.

Although Leon would never admit it aloud, he was a spoilt child. He had confessed to Emil once that he sometimes didn't like asking Arthur for favours since he was adopted and since being adopted was enough for him; after all, he believed himself to be an unwanted child abandoned by his biological mother. However, that was not how Arthur, Marianne, and his _sifu_ saw things.

Arthur saw him as his own son and adored teaching him everything Leon wanted to know—piano, guitar, even old folk tales and lore from all over the globe—since neither Alfred nor Matthew fostered an interest in the fine arts while Marianne saw him as the daughter she never had but always wanted. Even though she had never said this aloud, it was quite obvious in the way that she constantly bought him new clothes—some more androgynous than others—that she thought would suit his slender figure and soft, but still somewhat angular, features. Then Yao Wang, from what Emil knew, viewed Leon as his only grandchild. The Chinese man never had children of his own because his wife passed away at an early age and because he had never remarried in her memory, so Leon was a pleasant surprise when they first met through Arthur.

"How long are you going to stand there?" Leon teased as he pulled the other earbud from Emil and recharged his dying phone. The Hongkonger shuffled over to his messily made bed—well, most likely _unmade—_ with tousled sheets and a cluster of fluffy pillows that was shoved into a corner of his room, where he reached out for his charger. After plugging in his phone, he set it on the night stand near the head of his bed and then lumbered over to his desk, where he powered on his desktop computer—usually for gaming purposes from what Emil's gathered by the MMO short-cuts on his home screen—and clicked on his Internet browser, Google Chrome themed with some Japanese RPG the Icelander didn't recognise.

Huffing, the platinum blond remarked as he, out of politeness, did the same as Leon and slipped out of his boots to set them by Leon's shoe rack, "You _do_ realise that I'm here to help you study, right? History isn't your best subject, right?"

"Well, I'm not failing it. I have a pretty high B in that class."

"You won't keep that B if you don't study. Mrs. Edelstein is a harsh grader," chastised the Icelander. The title fell from his lips uncertainly, unused to having to use the English equivalents of _herra, frú,_ and _ungfrú_. Back in Iceland, addressing other people by their first name was normal even if in a formal situation; for instance, schoolchildren would call their teacher directly by his/her name without including " _herra_ " or " _frú_." The more he spent time in America, however, the more he had gotten used to calling adults by their proper titles.

He could only remember the shock Leon had when he had called the Hongkonger's guardian by his first name after they were introduced to each other ("It's very nice to meet you, Arthur," he had said in shaky, nervous English), and the Briton had only laughed it off merrily after picking up Emil's accent. He was rather familiar in Icelandic customs after associating himself with Mathias Køhler, who sometimes boasted of his "wide-spread" family all over what used to be Scandinavia, though there was still much he didn't know, and he had even asked Emil to speak more about his country of origin over the dinner table that night. Ever since then, he had been in Arthur's good side; the Englishman had even praised how well-behaved he was in comparison to his uncle.

Settling on Leon's mattress, Emil watched as his friend put on some music before the Hongkonger swivelled around in his chair to face Emil. "Fine, fine. Just quiz me on the dates already," Leon said as he reclined in his chair. He sighed and griped, "God, I hate U.S. history! Do I bloody care about Jefferson and Adam's strained relationship after the presidential elections?"

His English accent that he had picked up from his guardian had become more pronounced when he was complaining, and Emil couldn't help but compare it to how his Icelandic accent was _terribly_ strong when he himself became angry and flustered. At one point, Mathias had drove him up the wall, and Emil couldn't help but resort to Icelandic when he was at a loss for words. He doubted that Leon could ever become that angry—angry and flustered enough to switch to Cantonese to express his disdain—though. He'd rarely seen Leon angry—whiny, yes, as he was a bit of a spoilt brat—but never angry.

"America really stresses the founding fathers and the American War of Independence though," Emil mused aloud as he reached into his bag to retrieve his textbook and the rest of his unfinished homework. The class was even harder for him, too, since, being an international student from Europe, there wasn't much that he knew about American history. That was part of the reason why he wanted to study at Leon's as well. When he was home, he couldn't possibly ask Mathias for help, and at the Kirkland residence, there was also Leon's older brothers to help them through the course—as they had already taken it and survived for the most part. (It was also the only class where Alfred had gotten a high A.)

"If Alfred was here, he'd totally correct you and say that it's the _Revolutionary_ War," Leon mused aloud as he reluctantly reached into his backpack and did the same as Emil—fetching his textbook and homework that he hadn't even started. A soft jingle of bells drew their attention to the door, and Leon's tiny white kitten poked her head curiously into the room. Xiulan then entered the room and leapt into her owner's lap, and he waited until she was comfortable before he shifted about once again.

"He _is_ a bit nationalistic."

"He'd probably say that he's, like, 'patriotic' or something." Leon set his textbook on the surface of his desk, which had an oversized mouse pad—some kind of table mat—printed with an image of the same Japanese RPG on the home screen of his gaming computer. "So what did you get for the first question?"

"You can definitely answer the first one, Leon," Emil retorted. "Do it yourself."

"Stingy much?"

Nevertheless, Leon smiled subtly and turned in his chair so that he could do his homework on his desk. He clicked his pen, scribbling down the answer to the first question on the space provided on the worksheet, while Emil laid on his stomach, doing the rest of his homework on top of his hard-cover textbook. The two of them wrapped themselves in silence, only allowing the music to stream throughout the room in soft, gentle waves, while occasionally asking each other for help. By the time they had finished, Emil was already testing Leon on some of the vocabulary terms in case the teacher pulled out one of his beloved pop quizzes.

When the two boys noticed that they had been studying for an hour and a half, Leon could hear the front door open downstairs. "Looks like Al and Matt came back," the smaller boy remarked dryly. He smiled amusedly when he noticed Xiulan's ears twitch and then stroked his pet between her ears gently in response. The Hongkonger reclined in his seat with a bit of satisfaction warming his chest when he heard her purr. Sighing, his smile left with his breath, and he grumbled, "It'll get louder from now."

"If I minded, I wouldn't be here," remarked Emil as he flipped another page of his textbook. "Alfred is just as loud as Mathias anyway, so I'm used to it. It's hard to believe that guy is approaching forty years old; he's so obnoxious."

"You say that, but you don't mind him at all either," Leon remarked with a dry smirk on his lips. He watched with a stroke of amusement brushing lightly against his facial features as Emil cringed when the Icelander heard Alfred's thunderous footsteps roaring all the way up the stairs, his rowdy laughter filling the empty space in the hallway, even though the Hongkonger didn't so much flinch at the sound. Well, Emil supposed that Leon did have more than enough time to get used to Alfred's rowdy behaviour. Once he relaxed, he nearly missed his friend mumble, "Besides, this kind of noise is comforting." Before Emil could ask what Leon had meant, the door to Leon's room burst open, and Alfred poked his head instead, emanating a faint smell of salt and sweat.

"Hey, Leon!" chirped the American. "Think fast!" Before Emil could even blink, the American athlete flung a paper bag that reeked of oil and grease towards his adoptive brother. Leon, on the other hand, easily caught his brother's pass without so much batting an eye at the sudden surprise thrown his way—literally. "Nice catch!" praised the blond before his blue eyes flitted over to Emil. His grin widened a bit at the presence of his brother's friend, and the American waved merrily at the sight of the Icelander. "Hey, Emil! What's up? Studying? Leon, dude, you should've told me that your friend was coming over! I didn't get enough for the two of you on my way back, so you'll have to share! We cool?"

"Yeah," replied the Hongkonger nonchalantly as he opened the paper bag and peered inside. Without further ado, he stood up, sending Xiulan leaping across the floor and onto Leon's bed, right next to Emil. Leon then set the bag on the floor and ripped it apart so that the French fries scattered on top of the flat paper surface. "We're cool. Thanks, Al."

"No problem, bro," Alfred responded, still wearing that wide grin of his that Emil wondered why his face hadn't split into two halves yet. "Don't tell, Mom, a'ight? She'll totally get on our backs about why we're spoilin' dinner and shit."

"Don't worry about it, man," Leon answered dismissively.

"All right, dudes! See you at dinner!"

With that, Alfred vanished beyond the door after wishing them good luck on their studying. He reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of hand sanitiser that Marianne made him carry around and squeezed a fair amount into his palm before tossing it to Emil, who caught it shakily with some difficulty at the suddenness of his actions. Doing the same as his friend, Emil rubbed his hands clean and climbed down the bed to join Leon on the floor with their books and a few pieces of paper, silently studying and munching on the fries mindlessly.

After they've long finished the fries Alfred had brought them, Leon had gone downstairs to dispose of the greasy shredded paper bag with Emil following after him. The two of them loitered in the living room for a good while, drinking water and chewing on ice cubes, while staring blankly at the flat screen of the television—not quite watching the images that flitted across the screen—and taking turns to stroke Xiulan's silky white fur, the kitten having settled between the two teenage boys, until Marianne and Arthur had returned home.

It was rare of them to return at the same time. Normally, Marianne would return first and call Arthur to let the Englishman know that she was starting to prepare dinner. Her preparations would take around an hour, and Arthur took advantage of that time to wrap up whatever work he had left at his studio. If they returned home at the same time, then there were two major possibilities that Leon could derive. First was that Marianne had to wrap up business at her office, taking longer than usual, since her wedding dresses were wildly popular due to her past as a famous French opera singer and her elegant wedding with Arthur that was on par with a royal wedding, and second was that Arthur had finished business early for who-knows-why.

Arthur hardly ever talked about his work, and it was a topic that was never brought up at the dining table for obvious reasons. It was a matter of legal confidentiality and personal discomfort. There were times when Arthur returned home, beaten and battered, tired, worn, weary, and ragged, and refused to speak a word—unable to even utter a sound—that only Marianne's comfort could bring him to eat at the same table as his children. Kids who had a large ego were difficult to deal with—especially if you were a sardonic arse like Arthur who _didn't_ have the patience of a saint—and those who didn't know how to appreciate their producer and songwriters were the absolute worst.

" _Oh là là_!" exclaimed the Frenchwoman once she laid her violet blue eyes upon the Icelandic boy in her living room.

Upon noticing what had caught his wife's attention, Arthur glanced over to the living room and smiled warmly in his usual fatherly manner at the sight of the two boys. "Hello, Emil," he greeted politely. "Are you staying for dinner tonight?"

"If you don't mind, Sir," replied Emil quietly. Even though he's been over to the Kirkland residence several times ever since he became friends with Leon, he was still embarrassed of having to speak English _here_ of all places to an _Englishman_ of all people with his silly Icelandic accent that he thought was much too heavy despite the fact that Arthur easily picked up on his heritage. After all, this was the man who had taught Leon English and had him perfect it while he was in America—to the point where Leon ended up with a similar accent to Arthur rather than one like Alfred's or even Matthew's more Canadian-sounding accent. (Alfred often teased Matthew on how he pronounced "about." He would grin mischievously and stretched out "Ah-boot" before testing it with his own "Ah-bowt.") Because of his reluctance to speak and taciturn mannerisms, the entire Kirkland family—aside from Leon—thought Emil shy and reserved.

Of course, Arthur was kind enough to help his sons and their friends here and there whenever they studied English language and literature, and he never ridiculed anyone for their accent since studying a second language was difficult enough as it was. Arthur evidently knew around seven, claiming that they would help expedite business if he was to speak with someone who was more comfortable with German or Chinese or Spanish or whatever other language he's bothered to learn over the past couple years.

"Not at all, lad!" Arthur assured with a wide grin stretching across his lips. "You're certainly no bother! You're welcome here any time!" If he hadn't know any better, Emil would have thought that, perhaps, he was special in some way for Leon's guardians to take a liking to him, but he figured it was just his imagination. Arthur was simply polite and courteous, and there was no way that Marianne treated him any better than Leon's other friends or even Alfred and Matthew's friends. "Just remember to tell Mathias that you're here, yeah?" reminded the Englishman as he carried his briefcase up to his study upstairs.

"I suppose I'll get started on dinner then," Marianne chirped. "We'll be having _ratatouille_ over rice! Feliciano—ah, our new intern from Venice who studied a bit in Milan—brought me some fresh vegetables from his brother's farm out in the countryside today since he couldn't finish them all by himself; it would have been such a waste to let them spoil, _non_? You boys wash up first and get to the table, _d'accord_? Leon, have you fed Minou yet?"

"I have," answered Leon politely.

"Hey, Spot!" called Alfred from upstairs as he marched down. "Come here!" Xiulan refused to budge, making the American laugh in amusement. "Looks like she only listens to Leon even though there's so many people here!"

"Whiskers doesn't like it when you do that, Al," Matthew chided. "You've got her all riled up."

He headed over into the kitchen to help his mother with dinner preparations. Alfred collapsed on the sofa next to Leon, and Xiulan leapt off the sofa and darted up the stairs, nearly making Arthur trip over his feet. "Careful there, Molly!"

Emil blinked and mumbled, "I still can't get used to how your family has different names for _one_ cat."

"But, like, she still only listens to me," remarked Leon with a shrug. "So does it really matter?"

"I guess not," Emil conceded, "but it still baffles me how she's not confused with all the noise."

"It's not like she understands us. That'd be, like, kind of awkward," Leon mused aloud. "I can only imagine the rubbish Marianne feeds her—Arthur, too, when he thinks that he's alone. The two of them can't resist anything even, like, relatively adorable. That's, like, why they coddle over you so much whenever you're over."

Emil flushed in embarrassment at what Leon was implying. "Shut up!" He peeled himself off the sofa, gradually standing on his feet, while glowering at Leon with indignation. However, the red staining his cheeks made him seem even less intimidating to the Hongkonger, who only smiled knowingly at his friend's current frantic, flustered state.

The brunet joined his friend and pushed him towards the kitchen, where they washed their hands at the sink while Marianne was chopping fresh vegetables and preparing their bread and salads. "The French never eat a meal without bread" was something that Marianne had ingrained in her children's upbringing, and she always made a point to prepare the essentials of a meal—bread, salad, and fresh fruit with cheese. Leon rather enjoyed her food, but it had never filled him in the same way as Sifu's cooking had. Chinese cuisine often reminded him of a home he could barely recall and filled him with warm nostalgia.

He could eat the European breakfast Marianne prepared in the morning and the French dinners at night, but everyday, without fail, he would snack on oriental foods for lunch or teatime. Sometimes he even asked Mei or Cheng to bring him lunch or ordered take-away from the local Chinese restaurants—or Thai or Vietnamese or whatever sounded good at the moment. The smell of steamed, jasmine rice relaxed him just as effectively as the aroma of green or herbal tea.

Leon and Emil took a seat beside each other at the dining table. At the end of the table, to Leon's left, sat Arthur. Matthew sat across from Emil while Alfred was seated between the Icelandic boy and his twin brother. There was an empty seat across from Leon where Marianne would sit after she served them their dinner. Everyone had a plate of _ratatouille_ that Alfred seemed to swallow whole right after it was placed in front of him. Now Emil understood why Alfred had brought home McDonald's; the simple French dish would hardly be able to fill his black hole of a stomach even if he asked for seconds and thirds.

Quiet chatter filled the dining room. It was mostly Arthur and Marianne inquiring their children about their day at school until Marianne turned her attention to Emil. "When on _Earth_ are you going to invite me to one of your recitals?" she asked of the Icelander playfully and light-heartedly. "I've yet gone to one ever since Alfred and Matthieu enrolled World Academy! Alfred's only ever had science fairs, and Matthieu has only ever submitted research papers! Then with Leon, I've only ever seen dance recitals, but I've yet to attend a proper piano recital!"

Emil flushed under all of the attention he was receiving from Leon's family. Unsure of how to respond to the Frenchwoman, he informed her quietly, "I'll be performing a solo at the upcoming Winter Concert—a recital."

That was only because all of the music students were required to perform. Some of his classmates were performing in solos, duos, or an entire ensemble, but Emil tended to keep to himself. Now he was stuck with all the attention when it came to his turn to perform because he didn't have the nerve in him to find a partner.

As though sensing his discomfort, Marianne's eyes softened, and the teasing, playful smile on her lips shifted into a more matronly expression. "I'm sure you'll be fine," assured the Frenchwoman. "Have you decided on a song yet?"

"Not yet," Emil confessed sheepishly. "I was thinking of a piece of Tchaikovsky though—or maybe Chopin or Pachelbel."

"Tchaikovsky would be an excellent choice for winter," Arthur agreed wholeheartedly. He glanced over towards his adopted son and asked, "Leon, don't you have a winter performance as well?"

"Not really," Leon replied shortly. "We have to share with the music kids, so what we do, like, alternates every year. If the music kids have a recital, then we'll have to do an in-class practical. They play music and send us up to the front in groups of, like, three or four to dance something they decide on, like, the week before. But, like, when we get the stage, we put on a little show. Everyone's welcome to choose their own piece and if they want to dance in groups or something. You guys went to one last year, remember?"

"That's right, huh," Arthur mused. "I suppose that's why you didn't invite us your first year of high school. What about your dance group?"

"Mei landed us a performance at the winter formal."

"Oh, so you're going this year?" Arthur mused aloud.

"I kind of _have_ to go." The expression on Leon's face implied that he could have cared less, but the tone of his voice suggested that he definitely was not interested the least bit in regards to the winter formal and was more inclined _not_ to go.

"Winter formal?" Emil inquired curiously. "What's that?"

"It's a social right before winter holidays," Leon explained, stabbing the food on his plate with his fork. "People eat, chat, dance, supposedly have fun, dressed up in formal attire with a date." He seemed to want to mention something—most likely a sarcastic remark—but refrained due to the current circumstances. If they weren't having a pleasant dinner, Emil could just hear him gripe, _But I can do all of that in the comfort of my pyjamas at home by myself with nobody bothering me_. "It's around eighty dollars for a ticket to attend—if you're a student—and around ninety dollars for a guest outside during the first couple weeks. Afterwards, they're about one hundred and one hundred twenty dollars." Emil could hear his friend's underlying words, _And staying home is free_. "At least we get our tickets waived as payment for performing."

"Hey, think of it this way!" Alfred jumped into the conversation, exclaiming, "You're paying for an eighty dollar all-you-can-eat buffet!"

"No buffet is worth eighty dollars," Leon mumbled under his breath as Matthew tried to calm down his younger twin. At the sight of Leon, Marianne and Arthur smiled fondly at their adoptive son as an expression of understanding crossed their eyes.

In their family, Arthur refused to pay for Alfred's ticket because he didn't believe in paying eighty dollars for socialising, so the rowdy athlete often worked out a way to pay for the tickets himself by filling his schedule with part-time jobs and such since Marianne believed that hard work built a person's character—and that work might calm down her excitable son. On the other hand, Matthew never really asked to go as he claimed that parties weren't really "his scene," and Leon was never interested—especially because of financial reasons. His part-time job at Yao's tea lounge was to fund his hobbies and interests—video games, music, fashion, and miscellaneous merchandise—rather than to pay off a rather expensive ticket to an event where he might not enjoy himself. He absolutely refused to ask his guardians, who were kind and generous enough to adopt a problem child such as himself, for eighty dollars _plus_ a suit.

"I think I might have a suit somewhere that would fit you," Arthur told the Hongkonger warmly. "I wear them more for socialising since it comes with having to meet with upper-class clients all of the time."

"How come I had to buy my own suit?" Alfred asked his father incredulously.

"Because you've put on more weight than I ever did," Arthur answered curtly.

While everyone else was more inclined to laugh, Alfred pouted childishly before giving up the act and joining the laughter. It was a warm, happy family, Emil couldn't help but notice once again. He made the observation every time he came over. Even if Marianne and Arthur fought often—sometimes bordering divorce—they've never separated, and they've always prioritised their children. Emil couldn't help but yearn for his own family even though he knew that his parents would never come back from the grave.

Leon took notice of his friend's expression and discreetly took hold of the Icelander's hand. "Ice," he whispered quietly while all of the attention was focused on Alfred and Arthur's familial bickering and bantering, "you're welcome here any time."

Somewhere within him, Emil knew that Leon meant to say that he had also been accepted into the Kirkland family with all of their strange quirks and all of their comforting warmth. This was his home away from home in all of its awkwardness. A tiny voice at the back of his head couldn't help but muse that, yes, it would have been nice to be a Kirkland as well and to be a part of Leon's family.

* * *

 **A/N:** I ended up referencing some other animes and games/apps here and there, but they're really small allusions that are easy to miss in my opinion.

Also, for some reason, Leon's family ends up calling his cat different names because, in Alfred and Matthew's case, they have a hard time pronouncing her actual name. Alfred was creative enough to call Xiulan "Spot" for the grey patch of fur she has, and Matthew was even more creative to call her "Whiskers." Marianne refers to Xiulan with one of the most common names for cats in France because sometimes she messes up the pronunciation. Arthur shouldn't have any trouble pronouncing a Chinese name, but he likes the name "Molly" better (which is one of the most common names for pets in the UK, I think) and went along with what the other members of his family are doing. Leon just doesn't care as long as she listens to him.

Again, you have my thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: October Blues**

"Oh, hello, Emil!" Arthur greeted the Icelandic boy with mild surprise just as the teenager was about to ring the doorbell. Not much to the latter's astonishment, the Englishman was dressed in a worn leather jacket over a casual white button shirt with some jeans and boots, and judging by the car keys in his right hand as well as the pile of music sheets tucked under his arm, his left hand holding his laptop, Emil would assume that he was about to leave for work—probably overtime at the recording studio. The platinum blond remembered Mathias in a similar state. The Dane had offered him a ride to the Kirklands' since he was about to leave for work anyway to hand out candy for the children of his customers for Halloween night, but the Icelander had declined politely, insisting that Halloween would have children and overprotective parents flooding the city streets.

Turning his attention back inside the house, Arthur called for his adoptive son, "Leon, Emil is here!" He then stepped aside to allow Emil some room to enter their humble abode. "He's in the living room with Molly," the Briton informed Emil shortly. "Make sure he doesn't eat the children's candy, all right? I swear that bowl is a kilo or two lighter than when we first stocked it."

Emil nodded his head in response and bid Arthur goodbye as he stepped out and locked the door behind him. The Icelander, dressed in a warm knit, beige sweater over a white cotton button shirt with a pair of blue denim jeans (that Leon would claim as passable in his fashion sense) and his usual pair of white boots, didn't look at all as though he was celebrating Halloween. He carried with him a backpack stuffed with a change of clothes, a toothbrush, and his wallet and phone charger to stay the night considering that this year's Halloween fell upon a Friday. Mathias thought he'd be safer staying the night at Leon's than trying to walk back this late at night, and it was a point with which both Emil and Leon found reasonable.

Entering the living room, he found Leon lounging on the sofa in a similar state with a white kitten curled into his side at his left, leaving the space to his right open. The Hongkonger was dressed in a loose white t-shirt with a pair of grey drawstring joggers and a knit cardigan with a geometric pattern, a comfortable one he had stolen from Arthur's closet for lounging purposes (or so the brunet had claimed). It was a far cry from his usual style, yet his hair— _still_ , Emil noted—was as perfect as ever even though he hadn't bothered to style it today. A fit of envy rushed through his veins momentarily, and he wondered why on earth couldn't his own hair behave perfectly right after he woke up.

Once his light-hearted jealousy dissipated, Emil took care to observe the scene around his younger friend. A bowl of popcorn was set in front of the brunet, and the buttery, salty aroma was still rich and fresh. If Emil had to guess, he would say that Leon had retrieved it from the microwave only a few minutes ago. Not only that, but there was also a litre of Coca-Cola (Leon must have remembered that Emil thought that Coke was "okay") with two empty glasses that were halfway filled with ice cubes on the coffee table atop fashionable coasters Marianne had undoubtedly purchased for their home. Of course, there was also a bowl filled with candy about which Arthur had warned him and—as proof of his friend's crime—a couple of random, torn wrappers littering the table surface of a variety of brands ranging from Jolly Ranchers to Kit-Kats.

"Hey," Leon greeted casually. He reached beside him, picking the white kitten out of the way and earning a light mewl in response, before he placed Xiulan onto his lap in order to grab something that was out of Emil's line of sight. He tossed the unknown object over to the Icelander, who caught it with only mild difficulty before looking down on what exactly he had caught. It was a plastic zip-lock bag filled with small, plastic wrapped bits of mass-produced black liquorice that was still warm from Xiulan's body heat. She might have been helping Leon keep his gift a secret, or she might have actually been trying to hide it from both of them. "No kid likes this but maybe you," the Hongkonger explained, "so I separated them from the rest of the candy."

"Thanks," Emil replied dryly although a part of him did feel a bit touched at the action. He joined Leon on the sofa and turned his attention on the television. "Halloween movie marathon?"

"Not quite," Leon answered. "Just binging on horror flicks—mostly Asian horror flicks."

"Which one is this one?" Emil inquired of his shorter friend as his eyes flitted across the string of English at the bottom.

"The Japanese version of _The Ring_ ," the Hongkonger informed shortly. "You came in time for the beginning."

"Oh." The Icelander wasn't sure if he was happy about that—if he even _should_ be happy about that. Knowing Leon, the East Asian boy was likely to have chosen something quite unnerving just to give his friend a scare if Emil was to consider his friend's mischievousness that was well-hidden behind his monotonous manner of speaking.

As though sensing his unease, Leon plopped the white kitten onto Emil's lap without further ado, and the platinum blond gratefully began to stroke her fur without so much glancing at what was happening on the screen, enjoying the feel of soft, fine strands of her perfectly groomed coat. It was almost a perfect distraction, and pampering Xiulan was enough to divert his attention away from the flat screen. The last he checked, the main protagonist had entered a cabin in the woods of sorts, and he wasn't looking forward to what would happen next. From the movie trailers he's seen on TV, Emil _knew_ that this was where an attack would happen—or some climatic event that would haunt the protagonist. He's never seen any adaptation of _The Ring_ , never mind the original, and Emil had no interested in indulging in horror films. He never understood how people would want to be frightened to the point of nightmares.

"Hey, Leon— _whoa_!" Alfred exclaimed as he climbed down the stairs. The American was dressed in an elaborate Captain America suit, complete with the shield and all, with the mask in hand. His blue eyes widened in shock as they fell upon the flat screen of the living room television. "What the hell are you watching, man?! It's freaking me out!"

Emil glanced at the screen and found rather irrelevant images and video clips flickering across the screen. However, instead of feeling bewildered by the montage, the Icelander was more disturbed by the contents itself and glanced down at his lap, where Xiulan was purring in delight at the warmth his body exuded despite having been out in the cold earlier. Nevertheless, he could understand why Alfred was "freaking out" now.

Trying to calm himself down, the older boy asked Leon and Emil, "You dudes really don't want to head over to the party over at Allen's place?"

"Pretty sure," Leon answered shortly.

"Come on! Even Mattie's going!"

"Only because you made him," Leon remarked dryly, "and because _someone_ needs to keep you out of trouble."

Before Alfred could make a clever or not-so clever remark, Matthew marched down the stairs dressed creatively in a deep red hoodie with blue jeans and a pair of dirtied, worn runners. If Marianne knew that Matt still had his old shoes, Leon mused to himself, she would flip. Just as he approached Alfred, he punched his twin lightly on his shoulder, only to earn an ear-piercing shriek that had everyone—minus Leon—flinch. Xiulan leapt from her perch and crawled behind Leon's back, yowling lightly (as that was all her tiny frame could manage) in response to Alfred's shrill that the entire neighbourhood was likely to have heard.

"Come on, Al, let's go," Matthew stated firmly with an exasperated sigh. "We have to be back before one in the morning or else Dad will have our heads, and I'd very much like mine to still be attached to the rest of my body." Before the two of them left, Matthew reminded Leon to hand out the candy to the children if they rang the doorbell and not to eat everything, to which the Hongkonger merely shrugged in response.

Once the door shut firmly behind the twins and once he heard the engine of Alfred's car come to life, the vehicle soon pulling out of the driveway afterwards, Emil asked Leon about where Marianne was, and the Hongkonger told his friend that his other guardian was still at her office working late on some winter gowns. "I think the secretaries are, like, handing out candy in the lobby, too, in the spirit of Halloween and all that," Leon mentioned shortly.

Emil quietly began to unwrap and chew his black liquorice in order to keep his attention away from the horror film playing on the flat screen, squeezing his eyes shut at the parts he found most frightening, savouring the mass-produced candies as much as he could. They weren't anything like what he had back in Iceland, but the platinum blond supposed that they would do for as long as he was in America. Stealing a glimpse of his friend, the Icelander found that, as Emil had suspected, Leon didn't even flinch at the suspenseful parts. He couldn't help but wonder if his friend was even truly enjoying the film.

"You _really_ don't want to watch this, huh?" Leon asked of his friend without so much turning his head to make eye contact. When Emil didn't reply immediately—as he was in the middle of wondering if Leon could read minds—the Hongkonger angled his head slightly to glance towards his friend with a light smirk dancing on his lips. "You're squirming like crazy over there."

"It's not that I _don't_ want to watch it," Emil muttered vaguely with a slight pout. To an extent, it was true. Emil didn't really care if they were going to watch the damned film or not. He just didn't want to look up if it was playing. The blood-curling screams and haunting music were enough of a sign to tell him that something greatly disturbing was occurring on-screen. If he dared explain his reasons though, he had a feeling that Leon would laugh at him. Lukas never watched horror movies in front of him any more because he felt as though Emil wasn't old enough to handle the footage, but it wasn't like the Icelander was a kid! He was _sixteen_ , for God's sake!

"But you're not watching," Leon remarked pointedly as he rolled his eyes, bringing Emil's thoughts back to the present. The brunet raised the remote and stopped the film much to Emil's confusion. "It's, like, practically the same thing as not wanting to watch it." He ejected the disc, and Emil wondered, again, if Leon was really into horror films. He watched as his friend approached the TV and fiddled around with the player. The brunet replaced the disc inside its respective case and dug through the stack of films in front of the TV stand. As he browsed through the cases, Leon commented, "But, like, I kind of expected this though."

Emil frowned at his last statement and retorted, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I figured you didn't have much interest in, like, obscure films," Leon answered blatantly with a subtle smirk lingering on his lips.

"And you are?"

"Not really," Leon replied shortly. "It's just entertaining from time to time. I borrowed some of these from Sifu and Kiku; the rest are Redbox movies or Arthur's. Plus, there's Alfred's Netflix account." When he finally seemed to have found what he was looking for, the brunet raised the cases so that Emil could see exactly what he held in his hands. "Arthur has a soft spot for Tim Burton films. You'll probably like these better."

Emil nodded his head in agreement quietly and shifted his legs before Xiulan crawled back onto his lap when she noticed her owner wasn't present on the sofa. She purred loudly, and Emil could do little to resist the temptation to stroke her soft white fur. After hitting play, Leon returned to his seat beside Emil and offered the Icelander a helping of popcorn. Accepting a few pieces for himself, Emil trained his violet eyes on the television screen, relaxing a bit when the sound of Danny Elfman's composition floated between the empty spaces in the living room.

Seeking the warmth at his side, Emil subconsciously scooted towards Leon's side, and the Hongkonger didn't utter a single comment if he had noticed. Instead, he rested his head atop Emil's shoulder, making himself comfortable with the contact. Touching wasn't anything new between the two of them. Rather, it happened naturally; it felt just _right_. Within two months of knowing each other, there has been hand-holding, cuddling, and light touches here and there—nothing uncomfortable, nothing unwelcome—with no romantic entanglements, only feelings of comfort, warmth, and, well, _rightfulness—_ like these touches were simply meant to be, like they belonged.

It was a gradual process, of course, considering that Emil was well-guarded and that Leon wasn't really one to show his emotions on his face, but it wasn't really unexpected if they were to look back on how it all happened—since they saw each other every day and all. Leon was the one to initiate the more physical side of their relationship—friendship—mutual, platonic whatever it was—sometime near the end of September, and although Emil was shocked at first, he quickly adapted to Leon's little whims and indulged him. Honestly, the platinum blond would be lying if he said that it didn't feel weird either. Neither one of them ever went too far to make anything feel uncomfortable at any rate, so—in some kind of twisted sense—it was perfectly all right.

On the other hand, to others, Emil and Leon's interactions seemed to be a form of entertainment, and it would appear that, to the rest of the student body and even to Leon's family and Mathias, the two of them were a couple. Lukas was kept out of sight, out of mind. Emil figured his older brother didn't have to know; besides, he was already so preoccupied with his violin.

Nevertheless, it wasn't as though Emil has never pondered the aspect of such a relationship with Leon. (Why else would he try his damnedest to hide Leon from Lukas? He knew that he would receive _twice_ the teasing he's already gotten.) It wasn't an unpleasant thought, so to speak, considering their current relationship—friendship—mutual, platonic whatever it was. However, to say that they were lovers, the thought was a bit foreign, and the only reason behind Emil's unease was because he was convinced—or, rather, convinced himself—that they didn't know each other too well. He's only just moved to America and was still unfamiliar with the culture, and he's only known Leon for two months. Still, a voice in Emil's mind remarked that they do what most couples would have already done—hand-holding, hugging, cuddling, sleeping over, etcetera—so dating wouldn't be so far of a stretch for the two of them. It didn't help that his stomach had a tendency to flip and somersault at the thought of kissing his friend—just right after his heart skipped a beat, too. It was unnatural for his body to react in such a way, so he didn't even contemplate the matter as often any more.

However, somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind, Emil was aware that he was afraid of asking Leon for more than his company. It would have been a lie to say that Leon wasn't attractive or that Emil wasn't attracted to Leon in some way. However, for now, Emil would savour what he could of their current relationship—friendship—mutual, platonic whatever it was.

"Ice," Leon called to his platinum blond friend, "the door."

Snapping out of his trance, Emil glanced to the front door, where, certainly, trick-or-treating children were ringing the bell. Stretching his limbs to fill the empty space where Leon had been, the Icelander waited patiently until the Hongkonger returned to the sofa after handing out candy to the costumed children.

Emil then decided that their current circumstance was fine as it was as he tried to drown in the cushions of the Kirklands' sofa. He couldn't possibly ask for more, so when Leon returned back to his seat and rejoined his guest in watching the first of many Tim Burton films to come, he was a little hesitant to reach out for Leon once again. However, temptation won him over, and the two of them were cuddled up to each other. For the next few hours, they only broke apart when it was their turn to hand out the candy—or to pay the pizza man for their dinner and tipping him generously with the money Arthur had given them and a handful of Halloween candy. (Knowing how easily Alfred gets on a sugar high, Leon would rather die than to let his American brother have any more sweets tonight or the next day.)

Once midnight struck, they were doubtful that any good parent would allow his/her children to wander around at the late hour, so they picked up their rubbish and tried not to overfill the bin in the kitchen with their empty bottles and candy wrappers and bags of potato crisps. The remaining candy was divided evenly between Leon and Emil before the two boys hauled their asses upstairs. Then the both of them spent the rest of the time playing games—only pausing to greet the returning residents of the Kirkland household.

First was Marianne who had arrived home a few minutes past midnight (after closing up the office building with Feliciano and her other employees who volunteered to help). The Frenchwoman was very much pleased to see that her house had not been trashed by any of her boys or by any of the neighbourhood children. Then Alfred and Matthew returned just a few minutes nearly a quarter past one o'clock in the morning, much to Marianne's disapproval, and the twins reasoned that traffic was still rather congested—with some late-night trick-or-treaters, loitering teens, and unreasonable drunkards—only to be let off with a strict warning. (Marianne found it hard to believe Matthew capable of lying, and from time to time, Leon thought so as well. However, after living with the Kirklands and being a Kirkland himself for the past nine years, Leon noticed that the Canadian was more than capable of keeping a secret.) Arthur hadn't returned home until the rest of the household was dead asleep, and even when he did, the first thing he had done was lock himself in his studio room. Nobody questioned his actions any more, knowing that his job was difficult enough already, and prayed that he'll be able to find a new record company for which to work come the New Year.

Nevertheless, as the clock was approaching two in the morning, Leon couldn't help but notice that Emil was growing considerably tired. Poking his friend in the side, the Hongkonger remarked, "You should, like, get some sleep." There was a hint of concern in his usual monotonous voice, and even though Emil tried to blink away sleep in order to stay awake with his friend, he couldn't suppress the yawn that broke past the confines of his lips. As per routine, Leon tossed Emil some sleepwear—a pair of sweats and a plain t-shirt—and ushered him in the direction of their bathroom. The two of them quietly brushed their teeth before returning to Leon's room, where Xiulan had already made herself comfortable on Leon's bed.

Picking the kitten up, Leon gestured for Emil to crawl underneath the covers first. He set Xiulan atop Emil's side, and the Icelander had to fight the urge to burst out in wild giggles at her light pattering steps in attempt to make herself comfortable. Stripping himself of his knit cardigan, throwing the sweater in the direction of his computer chair, Leon switched off the lights and slipped underneath the covers next to Emil. Out of habit whenever there were two bodies in the modestly sized bed, Xiulan slipped between the two boys and purred comfortably at the warmth around her.

Emil couldn't help but find it odd when, only a few times back, he had protested against this sort of arrangement the first time he had slept over at the Kirkland residence. From what the platinum blond was told, Leon's room was originally a guest room around ten years ago. When Arthur had adopted the Hongkonger, however, it was gradually revamped into a personal bedroom. The only empty rooms available were Arthur's studio, which there existed an unspoken rule that the quaint office was off-limits to anyone aside from the Briton and Leon when he wanted to use the piano or guitar, and the living room. Naturally, the Kirklands all protested to having their guest sleep on the sofa, and Leon himself had suggested taking up the sofa if sharing a bed bothered Emil so much. In the end, Emil was acquiesced, and, well, as time passed by, he was no longer against the idea.

There was only one concern of his though.

"Leon," he called gently, violet eyes softening in concern at the sight of the Hongkonger twisting and squirming in his sleep, "Leon, wake up; _please_ wake up." Xiulan had woken up before Emil, being the closest to her honey-eyed owner, and meowed, leaping over Emil's body to wake up the Icelander and get his attention. He reached out towards the brunet and snatched hold of his friend's shoulder, shaking it lightly, and tried again, knowing that his voice was venturing towards a pleading whine, "Leon... Leon... Leon!"

As though a spell had been broken, Leon's eyes had snapped open—glowing a faint caramelised brown in the dark—wide and distraught. Emil couldn't refrain from frowning, and he hoped that the darkness would concern his features. It wasn't the first time he had witnessed Leon's reoccurring nightmares. According to the younger boy, they would appear every time he closed his eyes for the past nine years, and when asked if sleeping frightened him, Leon could only snort in derision. "It's not _sleeping_ that I should be afraid of," he had remarked during the first night Emil had slept over and after the first fit Emil had witnessed. It was true that Leon did seem to value sleep over all else—aside from eating and dancing, that is—and Emil realised that he had subtly implied that it was more that the dreams had frightened him. Then he had requested of Emil—though it had bordered demanding—not to tell anyone about it. "I don't want to worry Arthur," Leon had explained. "He's already done so much."

"Does he know?" Emil had inquired curiously.

Leon had given him an incredulous expression in response to his query. "If I had been keeping quiet about this for how many years, what do you think, Ice?" the Hongkonger had grumbled. When he noticed the other boy flinching at his tone, the brunet had swiftly apologised for his terseness before explaining, "He thinks I don't have them any more. They were more frequent when I was around six—until I was around nine or ten years old.

"They were so bad that Arthur and Marianne brought me to a psychiatrist one time. As my guardians, they were strongly against it, but the shrink kept insisting that I had to be on pills—sleeping pills—at least for a little while. If I continued taking them though, Arthur and Marianne were afraid that I'd develop a dependency on them, so instead of doing taking pills, Arthur or Marianne would always make me a cup of warm milk or chamomile tea before bed to get me relaxed. Sometimes, they used to sing me songs, read me stories, and wait until I was asleep before leaving. Although Arthur looks like a stiff, he actually did his fair share of singing lullabies and reading stories—though, in his case, it was more like rock ballads and British classics.

"Anyway, they don't occur as often now compared to when I was a brat, but they're basically dreams—sometimes bad ones, sometimes insanely bad ones, a few times peaceful ones. And, like, I don't know how to predict when they do occur or not—dreams, you know?"

Drawing himself back into the present and out of his thoughts, Emil retracted his hand from Leon's shoulder and accidentally brushed his fingers against his friend's skin, finding it dowsed in cold sweat. His frown deepened—especially when he heard Leon trying to catch his breath—before he shifted uncomfortably into an upright position. Leon never wanted to talk about his dreams—good or bad—so Emil thought it was best just to avoid the subject. "I want to drink some chamomile," Emil muttered under his breath.

Leon seemed to have heard him, and he nodded his head after a few moments—once he had seemed to have calmed down for the most part. He threw his legs over the side of his bed and nearly stumbled on the first few steps towards the door. Emil tore his eyes away in shame—unable to do anything for his friend—and couldn't help but think, _It's that bad this time, huh?_ Still, he followed Leon suit, and the two boys trudged downstairs and into the kitchen, flipping the lights before warming some water in the black kettle.

Leon reached into one of the cabinets, grabbing a box of chamomile tea bags. Emil wondered if Arthur and Marianne really didn't know about Leon's nightmares. It was commonplace for Leon to wake up in the middle of the night to fetch a bottle of water or even to brew a drink—some warm milk or chamomile—and, since Marianne was in charge of the groceries, at least the Frenchwoman should have noticed. The only other person in this household who normally drank chamomile to ease into sleep was Arthur after he's worked for ages, and there was no way one person could so readily consume so many tea bags despite his stressful job.

Glancing over to his friend as he prepared two mugs with the herbal tea leaves, Emil knew that, if he himself had caught onto this realisation, then Leon should have noticed a long time ago as well. Marianne and Arthur must have known that their adopted son was still suffering from his reoccurring nightmares; there was no way that they wouldn't have noticed. They didn't touch face on this with Leon because they knew he would try to avoid the subject. Nightmares shouldn't ever have to be relived, and the Hongkonger was doing his best to run away from them so that he wouldn't ever have to confront them.

"Here," Leon called out to his friend quietly as he handed over a mug over to Emil. The Icelander accepted it graciously and took a light whiff of the steaming brew, allowing the aromatic herbal leaves to calm his senses. Emil lifted the rim of the ceramic mug to his lips before he took a sip of the herbal tea, tasting a bit of the flowery daisies from which it was made. He stole another glance at Leon, who didn't seem entirely bothered by the taste, and decided that it was an acquired taste. For Emil, this was the equivalent of munching on flowers, but he figured that, if Leon could drink it, the Icelander was perfectly capable of doing the same.

Chamomile wasn't a personal favourite of his, but if it relaxed his distressed friend, then Emil would join him. He wasn't sure whether or not Leon felt lonely in his nightmarish world, so he would always stick with him. If he pulled his eyes away from the Hongkonger, Emil was worried that he wouldn't see him again—that Leon would disappear into the darkness of his heart—that he wouldn't be able to reach out to the Hongkonger in his time of need. Although he appeared strong, Leon himself was quite vulnerable; although Leon could protect Emil from his bullies in the real world, Emil could do nothing for Leon in the darkness of the brunet's mind, heart, and soul. How would you combat a horror you could not see?

"You're done already?" Emil inquired of the brunet as he watched Leon dump his tea bag into the rubbish and wash off his mug. Not quite fond of the taste of flowers, Emil was barely halfway done with his brew, and Leon prepared it so that it only filled half of his mug and brewed for only a few minutes—maybe around two minutes, but certainly less than three minutes—instead of the good five Leon's took to brew. It was no secret that Emil wasn't really a tea drinker just as it was no secret that Leon wasn't all that avid about coffee.

"Yeah. You?"

Emil glanced at his mug and saw that he only had a bit left. Without much thought, he lifted his mug and gulped the rest of his tea without really tasting the herbal brew. He handed the mug over to Leon and threw away the tea bag. With the two boys more relaxed now, they returned upstairs as soundlessly as they had come downstairs. Emil, as usual, slipped into the bed first before Leon followed shortly afterwards. When the two of them made themselves comfortable, Emil nearly jumped, startled, the moment he felt Leon snake his arms around the taller boy. He didn't have to ask anything because the shorter boy took the liberty to explain, "If I'm like this, then it's less likely that I would let go of you to thrash around in my sleep—or something like that—probably."

Emil sighed through his nose and dug his face into Leon's dark brown hair, smelling faintly of honey and green tea. The platinum blond figured that it must have been his shampoo or soap, and he couldn't help but admire the silkiness of the East Asian's hair. The softness was on par with Xiulan's baby fur that had yet to shed for a coarser, thicker coat of an adult cat. The warmth from the chamomile and from Leon overwhelmed him, coaxing him into sleep, and when Xiulan joined them, the two boys nodded off into a distant realm.

It was the first dreamless sleep Leon's ever had in a long time. When morning light crept through his window blinds, Leon stretched his limbs like a cat, and Xiulan was quick to hop off the bed to avoid her master's arms. He turned on his side and chuckled silently at Emil's fine hair sticking up at odd angles, some locks of hair curling naturally inwards while other strands decided to curl outward. He casually reached for his charging smartphone and unplugged it from its chord before pulling up his camera and quickly snapping a picture, adding it to his growing collection of sneak shots, most of which were Emil-centric. Ever since he's met the Icelander, his photo albums have been accumulating with Emil's different expressions, overwhelming his usual pictures containing quick snaps of someone's reaction to one of his pranks, something cute Xiulan did, or food that could only ever be experienced once in a lifetime.

Leon nearly cursed in Cantonese when he realised that the camera shutter wasn't set to silent, and he held his breath when he heard Emil stir. Throwing his phone to the side, he settled back into bed and pressed a kiss to Emil's forehead playfully. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Leon whispered into the blond's ear mischievously. He concealed a highly entertained smirk when he felt Emil shudder beside him.

"What time is it?" Emil muttered into his pillow.

"It's a little past half ten," Leon replied shortly before he pondered about what his family was doing at the moment. Marianne was likely already at her office, and Arthur was probably getting ready for another day dealing with divas. He knew that his godfather often complained about wanting to work with at least the more respectful, if not more agreeable, indie musicians. It would also be easier if he worked with singers who were also songwriters, but, of course, his contract would be valid for another couple of months before he could sign himself to another company or launch his own record company. Alfred was likely to be dead until two in the afternoon, and Matthew was probably already downstairs watching TV or reading a book. (Nobody could get things done with Alfred's incessant snoring.) "Let's get ready and go out somewhere. Then I'll take you back home."

Emil hummed in acknowledgement of what Leon had just said but didn't make any motions that he would be moving any time soon. "You go first," the Icelander insisted quietly as he pulled Leon's blanket over his shoulder.

"Fine," the Hongkonger conceded before placing a kiss on Emil's temple, "but I expect you to be awake by the time I'm done." He slipped out of bed and marched to his closet, pulling out an acceptable outfit that his mind put together in its partially tired daze, before sauntering into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Throwing on his faded blue jeans over a pair of changed boxers, Leon quickly fastened his silver studded faux-leather belt with practised ease. He slipped on a black and white v-neck shirt that was printed with _kanji_ spelling out the name of a Japanese band he had seen live the one and only time they had ever toured to America. After draping a maroon heathered cardigan over his shoulders, he slid his arms and adjusted the open sweater comfortably. He wrapped a semi-sheer scarf around his neck and reached for his hair wax to style his hair casually—not really bothering to comb his dark strands of hair seeing how it naturally fell into place this morning.

Once he finished, Leon strolled back into his room, where he found Emil rubbing the sleep out of his amethyst eyes. He collapsed onto his computer chair and pulled on a pair of shoes before stepping into his brown leather combat boots and lacing them up. Emil blinked at the sight of his friend and wondered aloud, "How the hell do you get ready so quickly?"

Leon raised an eyebrow in response and retorted, "How do you take thirty minutes to put on a shirt?"

Emil rolled his eyes—a bad habit he's picked up ever since meeting Leon—and mumbled, "That's not what I meant." Hesitantly, the blond crawled out of Leon's bed and grabbed a second set of clothes from his backpack. Leon tossed him a towel, knowing that the Icelander was likely to shower because he wouldn't be able to tame his bed-head with just a comb.

When he returned, dressed in a navy blue button up underneath the light beige sweater from last night with light grey jeans, Emil handed over the change of clothes and the towel Leon had lent him, and the latter then simply tossed the bundle into a laundry pamper stowed away in his closet. Collapsing back onto Leon's unmade bed, Emil remarked, "I wonder if I should just start leaving my clothes here with you. I already have a toothbrush, some of my books, a couple of my music scores, and a spare phone charger here."

"We could just, like, share clothes or something," Leon replied shortly. "Like whenever I sleep over at your place, I can just wear your clothes, and you'll do the same when you come over. We're bound to have each other's clothes in our closets either way. That reminds me, I think I left my panda hoodie at your place."

Emil blanched at the memory of the black and white pullover. He couldn't quite fathom how Leon had the nerve to buy something like that, but the loose-fitting, dolman silhouetted form of the sweater actually complimented his friend's slender figure quite nicely. Maybe it was an Asian thing. Mei often bought similar outfits, too, and Lien did occasionally as well—to an extent, that is.

"It's hanging on the coat rack in my room," Emil told his friend shortly. "Probably. You can check it out later."

"If we're going to start leaving and sharing clothes, then, like, it's cool to leave it there," Leon told Emil with a shrug. "I'll need it when it starts getting crazy cold, and that'll be a while—so whatever."

"If you say so," Emil muttered as he began to lace up his white boots. "So where did you want to go?"

"I'm craving Taiwanese hot soup right now," Leon replied, "but we could still go out for pancakes or something if you don't want Asian food."

"Soup doesn't sound so bad," Emil assured his friend brusquely. He knew that Marianne usually didn't cook anything but French foods, so there were more than enough times when Leon was in the mood for something that was usually only found in the far East—or Chinatown and sometimes Little Tokyo. Weekly visits to Chinatown became daily visits because Leon was a little homesick; although he claimed to have no memories of his childhood in Hong Kong, it was more than obvious that he missed it. "I don't have much money on me though, honestly."

"That's fine. I'll pay for one we can share," Leon replied casually.

"We can do that?"

"Why can't we?" Leon grinned deviously. "If we tell them that we're planning on sharing, then they'll bring out a bigger pot than normal, and knowing your small stomach, I'll be the one finishing it anyway."

Emil glowered at Leon at the mild insult. "I just don't have a big appetite—especially right after waking up."

"And you _wonder_ why Marianne always says that you're so skinny."

"At least I'm taller than you."

"That means nothing. Besides, you're only like an inch taller than me."

"Or so you insist."

Emil shrugged his backpack over his shoulder, and the two of them shuffled downstairs after Leon grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet. They bid goodbye to Matthew, who was, as expected, settled in front of the television watching a hockey match. Leon unwound his earphones and handed one bud to Emil to take before softly playing more of his music. The first song to play was a fusion of traditional music and western hip-hop, taking Emil by surprise. "He's rapping," the Icelander commented, "with Chinese instruments in the background!"

"Weird?"

"No, not really," Emil assured his friend. "It's interesting... I can't understand what he's saying though." Maybe because I don't understand even a single bit of Mandarin aside from " _Ni hao_ ," the blond remarked to himself sarcastically.

"It's about the three kingdoms*," Leon informed him shortly. "Some Chinese songs are history-oriented even if it's pop or hip-hop."

"Interesting..." It was different than most American music, but it didn't sound weird at all. It was quite suitable, actually, and unique to the culture. Emil was sure of that.

"But it seems like most Taiwanese pop songs are, like, about love**," Leon mentioned shortly. "I can't tell you how many ballads I've heard that directly translate to, like, some kind of love story, and ever since I've met Mei, the numbers just sky-rocketed."

A strange pang twisted Emil's heart, and he suppressed the urge to reach and grab his chest as though to soothe the pain physically. "Why is that?"

"Well, Mei moved straight from Taiwan to America, so she'd want to share her culture with someone. The one person who would totally get her would be, like, me or Cheng, but since Cheng isn't, like, the least bit interested in fashion or pop culture, that would leave me." Leon gestured to himself. "I'm like the guy version of Mei that's more chill, and she's like the girl version of me that's more hyped about, well, everything. We have the same taste in clothes, we both watch anime and read manga, and we both have a similar taste in music."

Emil hummed quietly in understanding. "I guess that's one way to look at it," the Icelander replied shortly, "but now I can't look Mei in the eye without thinking of what you just said about her being a female version of you."

Leon chuckled and retorted, "That's totally fine, Emil. Just think of me all the time, and you won't have a problem with that at all."

As if I couldn't think about you enough, you narcissistic dork, thought Emil dryly.

Sighing so quietly, his exhale was drowned out by the sound of bustling streets as Leon navigated them to Chinatown. They were eventually pushed against each other in the crowd, which left little room for talking when they tried making sure that the other was still there. Growing tired of having to look over his shoulder, Leon grasped Emil's hand as tightly as he could and pulled him along until they were safely out of the jostling crowd and in tamer streets. Emil could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he wasn't exactly sure if it was because of people pushing against him and shoving him around or if it was because of Leon's rash actions.

New York was fairly liberal, and they only occasionally attracted a curious eye with their closeness. If someone did seem to care, however, most people were "kind enough" to keep their comments to themselves with only a momentary leer; it wasn't often that someone voiced their disdain overtly from what Emil's discovered over the past few weeks.

Either way or any way at all, Leon didn't seem to care though because, to him, what they were doing was completely natural. It wasn't something wrong, and it wasn't something that involved anyone else. Their relationship—whatever it was—this affectionate but platonic and mutual dependency into which their friendship had evolved—was only between the two of them. Emil couldn't help but feel that way as well, and a part of him wondered if he was just getting carried away by Leon's pace. Those good morning kisses were Leon's rare display of gushing affection and playfulness brought out by his mischievous nature as well, and with the way they were getting closer, Emil didn't quite find them out of place.

His heart disagreed though, and with every kiss, it increased in heart rate to the point where Emil thought he would have a stroke.

"Ice, it's over here," Leon directed as he tugged lightly on Emil's hand.

"O-Okay," responded the Icelander as he tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. The blond followed after the brunet inside the restaurant***, where the atmosphere was nearly five degrees warmer due to the hot soups being served indoors. Chinese pop played softly in the background, and there was idle chatter in different languages all around. Most patrons spoke in English, seeing that this was most likely a hang-out place for Asian-American youths, while others spoke in Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese, or Korean. Light mostly poured into the restaurant through the windows than the overhead lanterns, and there was one large aquarium behind the front counter.

Leon pulled out the bud in Emil's ear, his fingers brushing lightly against the platinum strands of the taller boy's hair, while they were waiting for someone to help them get seated somewhere in the restaurant. Although nobody else was waiting in front of them, it seemed that the staff was currently occupied with the patrons that were already seated. Emil flushed from Leon's action but quickly tried calming himself down. Afterwards, he glanced over the restaurant again while Leon pocketed his earphones.

"They only opened half an hour ago," Emil noted, "but it's already so full..."

"It's a popular joint," Leon informed his friend shortly. "It actually opened business a few months back during the summer, so it's not as busy compared to their grand opening. Compared to having a hot pot, it's way cheaper, too, but just as filling."

"Hot pot?" Emil repeated uncertainly.

"Basically, it's a metal pot of stew that sits at the centre of the dinner table," Leon explained, "where we cook ingredients—raw meats and seafood or vegetables—while the pot is still simmering. It's pretty common in most Asian cultures, and depending on whom you talk to, they'll explain it a bit differently. If you want to try one, then, when winter comes around, I'll take you to one—only with the others though so we can split the cost—because it can get pricey. It'll definitely have to be an all-you-can-eat place though or else they'll charge us for each plate of ingredients we order." Emil smiled subtly when he noticed that his friend was starting to ramble, speaking his thoughts aloud, in mild amusement.

"Leon," Emil nudged his friendly lightly when an employee stopped in front of the cash register and smiled at the two of them, "someone's here."

"Oh, hey," Leon greeted the staff casually with a nod of his head.

"Haven't seen you around here for a while," commented the employee with a friendly smile on his lips, "but welcome back! Table for two?"

"Yeah," Leon replied shortly as he followed after the employee with Emil at his side. The two of them were seated at a small table across from each other, and the employee—his name tag read "Ryan"—left them to their menu. Leon glanced over the ten soup items they had listed on the menu while Emil studied each one carefully.

He couldn't make sense of some of the ingredients.

"What do you want to get?" Emil finally asked Leon.

"I want to, like, get a spicy soup, but I won't," the Hongkonger replied shortly with a fleeting smirk on his lips. "I know how you are with spicy foods, so..."

Emil flushed at the comment and muttered, "Excuse me for having a low tolerance and a weak stomach." Lukas said he was just like a kid, but then Emil couldn't help but retort that his older brother couldn't handle spicy meals much better than Emil either.

"What do you think looks good?" Leon inquired of the Icelander.

Emil hardly even glanced over the soups with "spicy" in the name. "I guess the seafood one doesn't look too bad," Emil admitted. Iceland had a bit of a fishing industry, after all, and that was an understatement on Emil's part. He could most likely eat the seafood soup since it was the only other familiar word he recognised on the entire menu. (The other word he recognised was "beef," but the soup looked like it was too much meat and protein for having only woken up.) He glanced over the ingredients again and confessed, "I'm not sure how I feel about eating mushrooms, octopus, and tofu though."

"You can give me whatever you don't want," Leon assured his friend. "I don't mind. I did make you come all the way here anyway."

"Then... we could get this one," Emil said as he pointed a bit more confidently at the seafood hot soup. "Probably."

"Okay," Leon easily agreed. "Do you want green tea or black tea?"

"Err... I don't really drink tea."

"It's complimentary to the meal. Just try it."

"Black? I guess?" Is black tea like black coffee? Emil was too embarrassed to ask Leon, so he kept his lips sealed. He tried focusing on the music playing overhead and was surprised to hear the same song that he had just heard with Leon. "I'm assuming that this person is really popular."

"Oh, yeah, he's like the biggest triple threat in all of Asia," Leon informed shortly. He began listing off the talents on his fingers. "He started out singing, then dancing, and then acting. He's in Taiwanese, Hong Kong, Japanese, _and_ Korean dramas and movies, too. He's even had voice roles in a couple of animes. His name is Wang Tai-Yang—not to be confused with Taeyang, the one from the Korean boy band."

"You're a fan of his?"

"I guess he's, like, all right." Leon shrugged. "He's almost forty and says he's going to retire. There hasn't been anything new from him in a while, but it's understandable—I guess. Apparently, he fainted at one of his concerts—health problems. I think there's word about him getting, like, heart surgery or something; I'm not all that sure."

"Oh."

Saving Emil from a lapse in conversation, the server—the same Ryan from earlier—returned to ask for their order. Leon took charge of the situation and told him that they would be sharing a pot of seafood soup and that they'll be having two black teas. Ryan marked them off and said that he'll be back with their teas as soon as possible, retrieving the two menus at their table. Leon turned his attention back to Emil, who curiously watched Ryan slip into the steaming hot kitchen. "You come here often, don't you?" the blond inquired of his friend. When he realised that his question sounded an awful lot like an overused pick-up line, he flushed in embarrassment.

Leon used this chance to push his buttons a bit and smirked impishly at the Icelander. "Are you flirting with me, Snowflake?" the Hongkonger teased. "Well, you _are_ cute, and you're, like, actually my type. But, you see, I'm on a date with someone right now, and I'm afraid that he's, like, insanely jealous."

Pouting, Emil grumbled, "Who the hell gets 'insanely jealous,' and who the hell would ever 'flirt' with _you_?" Kicking Leon lightly in the shin as though to get him back for the "Snowflake" comment, Emil glowered at him—still pouting—before he griped, "Well? Are you going to answer my earlier question?"

Chuckling quietly, Leon replied, " _Yes_ , Ice darling, I _do_ come here often—but not with other girls. I swear that you're the only one for me, love."

"You're such an ass."

Leon batted his eyes innocently. "But it's true," he protested just as light-heartedly, carrying on the playful tone from earlier, "that you're the only one I've brought here on a date." Dropping the act when he noticed that Emil was getting incredibly flustered with their imaginary relationship, Leon explained, "I've been here a couple of times with the others after dance practice. Like, we each get our own pots—except for Mei and Lien sometimes when they want to share or when they're, like, not as hungry. Happy?"

Emil ignored the rapid pounding of his heart and answered nonchalantly, "Very."

The server, Ryan, returned with two plastic cups sealed by a plastic covering with filled with black tea poured over ice and a sort of cream or milk on top. He dropped off two straws and said that their soup would be ready in a couple of minutes and asked if they needed anything else. Leon waved him away dismissively, stating that they were fine at the moment. Following Leon's example, Emil shook the drink so that the tea and the cream were well blended before he pulled the straw out of its plastic wrap and poked a hole into the plastic film covering the top. Taking an experimental sip, he was surprised to taste a subtle sweetness on his tongue.

"I thought tea was supposed to be bitter."

"Like teenagers can handle bitterness," Leon joked lightly, gesturing to their surroundings. Most of the patrons were around their age or older, and a few were younger. There was one or two families in the entire restaurant, and most parties were simply gatherings of friends and acquaintances or couples on a date. The brightness in his eyes dimmed a bit as he asked Emil with all seriousness, "The milk tea doesn't taste bad?"

"It's not bad," Emil assured his friend. Perhaps it was because Emil was one of the few non-Asian friends that Leon had that made the Hongkonger worry slightly about him. The blond didn't mind exploring Leon's tastes and interests though—even if he was the only European in the entire building. This was only fair after he had forced Leon to try some of his cultural dishes when the Hongkonger stayed with him at Mathias' apartment anyway. Taking another sip of his tea, Emil smiled lightly at his friend—a very subtle upturn of his lips—and stated, "It's pretty good."

Their soup arrived in a round pot the height of a sauce pan placed on a gas stove that took up nearly the entire table stocked to the brim with fish, shellfish, vegetables, and tofu over a bed of noodles. Two baby octopus were on top, and Emil was quick to push them over to Leon's side of the pot with his chopsticks. Although he was still a bit clumsy with chopsticks, he was getting progressively better using them thanks to the time he spent with Leon. After setting the fire to a low simmer, Ryan set two smaller bowls in front of the two boys and told them to enjoy their meal before tending to another table.

"Okay, so now what?" Emil inquired as he eyed the steaming pot of soup.

"Now," Leon chirped as he shovelled a helping of noodles, fish, tofu, and a baby octopus into his bowl (Emil was surprised that it wasn't overflowing), "we eat." He held out a spoon to Emil, who took it tentatively, and suggested, "Try the soup." Leon picked up his own spoon and dipped it into the broth, putting it to his mouth and swallowing the soup after blowing it momentarily.

Seeing Leon at ease, Emil copied his actions.

"It's a bit salty—but not bad."

And much to his delight, the fish was delicious.

"Trust me when it comes to food, Emil," Leon told his friend with a slight smirk on his lips. "You'll never have a bad meal in your life with me around."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Sorry if the pacing is too fast; originally, I had this planned so that each chapter represents a month because I don't really plan on elaborating each and every day considering how long I write (around 10k words per chapter). Already, the first three chapters take place in late August and September, so this chapter is Halloween (October) and the morning after in order to transition into November. The story shouldn't be longer than twenty chapters total.

Initially, I had intended for Leon to be aromantic and demisexual who had a penchant for cuddling people to whom he's attracted (thus, explaining the part of the summary where " _transfer student Emil who might be or might not be his boyfriend_ "). We'll see if Emil ever gets out of this "mutual, platonic" hell of his.

Anyway, the Wang Tai-Yang Leon mentioned at the restaurant is not an actual artist from the best of my knowledge; neither is he completely an OC. I modelled him after 2P!Hong Kong, and I think Tai-Yang is the name people use for 2P!Hong Kong. There is a reason for this, but I'm not going to say here when it's only the fourth chapter.

 **Footnotes:**

* Some of the Mando-pop artists I listen to have songs about the _Romance of the Three Kingdoms_ since that's a huge part of Asian culture. I feel like it's more emphasised in Chinese cultures though.

** If you translate several songs by Taiwanese artists, you would see that it's either about a love story that happened in high school or an unrequited love or an ambiguous love or the feelings of being in love. My Taiwanese friend has also made this comment several times when I'm surfing through the Taiwanese side of YouTube, and I'm sure that they're not the only one who's noticed.

*** I'm actually way more familiar with the West Coast and SoCal than the East Coast and New York, so I modelled the soup place after Boiling Point, a Taiwanese chain on the West Coast, because I couldn't find what I wanted on Yelp when I was looking for locations near New York. I mean, this story is already an AU, right? I also find sharing food to be more romantic than getting your own serving; it's actually what I do with my partner.

I guess I could have made them get dim sum, but I felt like soup was more affordable on our cute little high school students. I also could have wrote the setting to be in California, but I felt like New York made more sense to be the location (maybe because it's closer to Europe). Also, Ryan is an insignificant employee and an OC who will probably never show up again. I googled common names for Asian-Americans, and "Ryan" was one of them, actually... haha.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: November Rain**

While Emil was reviewing his music sheets, Leon slid onto the piano stool beside him. Without saying anything, Leon hit a single key, allowing the note to flow throughout the music room, and when Emil glanced at his friend, he could see that Leon seemed to be remembering something—or trying to remember something. Using only his right hand, he began to experiment with different keys, testing their pitch and committing them to memory, before he finally began to move. His fingers stretched across the keys, unused to manoeuvring them against the white and black backdrop, but played the hook of an unknown song no less fluidly.

"It's an old ballad," Leon explained, "that I think my mother used to play and sing all the time. Arthur said that, like, she used to sing and that my father played piano, but I don't remember at all. Arthur taught me how to play this song, but it's been a while."

Emil didn't say anything at all in response. Putting the sheet music aside, he traced the keys Leon had just played and echoed their sound. "Like this?" he asked the Hongkonger quietly.

"Yeah, just like that."

Playing with the four notes Leon had just given him, Emil simply played whatever came to his mind. He ended on a minor chord and huffed lightly in a weak laugh. "That wasn't at all like the song you were talking about, was it?"

"Not quite," Leon replied with the same expression as Emil, "but it doesn't sound bad at all. You play _way_ better than me; that's for sure."

Emil rolled his eyes and remarked pointedly, "Well, I _am_ a music student." Flipping through his music scores, he stopped on a piece by Tchaikovsky and asked Leon, "So what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at dance practice with Mei and the others?"

"It got cancelled," Leon replied shortly. "Like, Mei's grandmother is in the hospital, so she has to leave early and visit her or something. I'm just waiting for you to be done, so we can go home together."

"What about your job?"

"I switched shifts with someone else for the day because they had something scheduled later this week."

Emil hummed in response lowly, letting Leon know that he had heard him, while studying the score and the notes he made in the margins. Leon watched him briefly before pulling out his phone and tapping away at the touch screen. The Icelander glanced over at the Hongkonger only to notice that he was playing some kind of ninja game. He stretched out his arms before following the written composition, and Leon was quick to lock his phone so that he didn't disturb his friend's practice. Emil faltered at one part, noticing that it was beyond him right now, before scribbling a note on the side of the margin to practise more at home.

"This is, like, for your recital, right?" Leon asked Emil as he was jotting more notes down.

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing," Leon replied nonchalantly before he stood up and marched over to his backpack. "I'm just impressed you're practising an entire month early."

"I can't afford to slack off," Emil muttered. "I'm just a scholarship student, and I'm pretty sure that I didn't get into this school by my grades alone."

Leon shrugged even though he knew that his friend wasn't looking at him. Having been inside Emil's room, the Hongkonger could guess to what Emil was referring. Shoved deep inside the blond's closet was a cardboard box filled with trophies, medals, and plaques. Some of them belonged to Emil himself—placing third in a competition or receiving an honourable mention—while most of them were awarded to Lukas Bondevik, who had left his trophies and medals and plaques with his little brother, claiming that they would take up too much space in the dormitories.

Emil was persuaded that he had been accepted into World Academy on his brother's good graces. Lukas was a prodigal violinist who had taken Northern and Western Europe in a storm, and now he was studying abroad in a private university in America. It was needless to say that the same, if not similar, expectations were placed upon Emil's shoulders. Even though he wasn't a violinist, he was still a musician, but he wasn't the kind of musician who wanted to stand on a world-class stage. He just wanted to play music for the sake of playing music. On the other hand, Leon thought Emil needed more confidence in himself and that he wasn't giving himself as much credit as he would to someone else.

Dropping his phone into the front pocket of his backpack, Leon stripped off his blazer and his sweater before he rolled up the sleeves of his button shirt. Settling himself on the floor, he began to stretch his limbs. Emil didn't even look away from his music sheets as he asked almost exasperatedly, "What on earth are you doing, Leon?" He wasn't quite sure what the brunet was up to, but with all that noise, he could at least tell that his friend wasn't planning on sitting still for the time being.

"I'm going to dance."

"To what music?"

"To your music."

Emil finally pulled his amethyst eyes away from his music scores and met a steady gaze coloured by the richly blended hues of caramel and honey with slight scepticism and a bit of incredulity. Leon shrugged and said, "You don't know what the dance instructors will pull out of their asses the week before our examinations. I mean, it could be the sound of rain or, like, the _Nutcracker_ for all you know. I figured I'd touch up on ballet and contemporary. You play well enough anyway."

"Gee, thanks," Emil replied sarcastically. "It helps to know that I can be used."

"Not _used_ ," Leon corrected curtly. "You mean _useful_."

"Like that makes much of a difference."

Leon rolled his eyes, and the two of them shared a wry smile before they returned to their respective positions. Emil hit a key and delved back into the song, the chords filling the vast space of the music room, and drowned out the sound of Leon's movements. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spot Leon's shadow, implying that Leon was dancing behind him so not to distract the musician, before he concentrated whole-heartedly on the chords, the tempo, and the movement of his fingers.

Unsure of how much time had passed, by the time their session had drawn to an end, Emil was practising little bits and parts of the song he needed to improve while Leon was leaning against the wall next to his backpack, chugging down a bottle of water. He had slipped his sweater back on and kept his blazer in his lap before he threw the empty water bottle into a nearby recycle bin. Standing back onto his feet, he stretched one last time and then reached into his backpack to check the time.

"It's five," Leon informed his friend shortly. "We should go before they kick us out of here."

Emil nodded his agreement, and while the blond neatly ordered his music scores, Leon threw on his blazer. He glanced out the window and frowned when he saw the darkening sky. Emil followed his gaze and quickened his pace. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, the Icelander suggested that they go before it started raining. Leon didn't need to be told twice. He didn't bring an umbrella, and he doubted that Emil had as well. "Let's go to your place," the Hongkonger suggested. "It's closer, and if it starts pouring, I'll just let Arthur and Marianne know that I'm with you."

"Okay, that's fine," Emil responded. "I'm sure Mathias doesn't mind." In fact, he was sure that Mathias would be more than thrilled. His uncle had a misconception that he had taken over the fatherly role in Emil's life, so he was overjoyed when Emil had revealed that he was friends with Leon. The one time they had been caught cuddling on the couch in front of Mathias' TV, the Dane hadn't lightened up on the teasing one bit. (In secret, however, Leon had told Emil that he had gotten the "boyfriend" talk where Mathias was playing the overprotective dad card.)

The two boys shuffled out of the conservatory and off-campus at a quicker pace than usual. The skies had become exceptionally cloudy, and neither one of them wanted to stay out long enough to discover if it was going to rain on them or not. Unfortunately, nature had different intentions, and, with a blinding streak, a bolt of lightning broke the dark skies followed by a clash of thunder that boomed like the banging of doldrums. Emil flinched at the sound and groaned with a volley of raindrops pelted them from above. People were quick to take shelter in other buildings and establishments while Emil tugged lightly on Leon's wrist, knowing that Mathias' apartment wasn't that far away from them now.

Leon adjusted the grip on his wrist so that Emil's hand slid into his. Clasping their hands together, the two boys dashed in the direction of Mathias' apartment. They dashed through the lobby and threw themselves into the lift, Leon shuddering all the while, who wasn't as used to the cold weather as Emil was. "Are you okay?" Emil asked Leon with concern evident in his voice. He turned his head the other way to hide the embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

"J-Just peachy," Leon muttered, trying to stop his teeth from chattering. "Man, this is, like, totally not cool at all..."

The lift jerked, sending the boys flying into each other, before shutting down. Emil scowled in the darkness, grumbling, "I think you spoke too soon." He felt Leon shiver upon touching the cold fabric of his soaking wet clothes. "Sorry," Emil hurriedly apologised. He tried to pull away, but Leon kept a tight hold on his hand. The warmth from Leon's hand seeped past his skin and managed to redden his cheeks at the sheer intimacy. He was fortunate that Leon didn't have night vision or anything of the sort. "We should press the emergency button."

"I don't think that'll, like, do anything, honestly," Leon muttered, resting his head on Emil's shoulder. "It's a power problem. They'll probably get the back-up generator running sooner or later." He shuffled in the breast pocket of his shirt, fortunate that his jacket and sweater soaked up most of the rainwater, and unlocked his phone. "I'm just going to shoot Arthur and Marianne a text about being here. How's your phone?"

"Wet—probably," Emil answered shortly. "I'll be surprised if it still works." He pulled out his ancient iPhone and tried hitting the home button. When it did nothing, he tested the lock button. The screen was still dark. Sighing, Emil muttered an Icelandic curse under his breath. Well, he did say that he had been expecting this to happen.

"I could try to fix it," Leon told his friend in between shudders. "If not, then maybe, like, Mathias would be cool enough to help you buy a new one or something."

"I guess," Emil agreed blatantly. "Mathias is already so excited about attending my piano recital and chasing away potential boyfriends anyway." The last part was directed as a joke towards Leon, who had received the comment with a little inaudible chortle. "Honestly, I don't think I'll ever get a girlfriend with you around."

After stripping off his wet blazer and sweater, which currently did him little in keeping warm, Emil inched closer to Leon. The Hongkonger did the same as his friend before he leaned against the wall of the lift, sitting his rear against the tiled floor. Emil joined him, and their arms pressed against one another as though shyly sharing one another's body warmth through the thin white button shirt.

"I don't think that I mind, really, if that happens," Leon responded to Emil's earlier statement.

Now that Emil thought about it, the blond found that he didn't really mind either. "Have you ever had one?" the Icelander found himself asking his friend. "A girlfriend, I mean."

He felt Leon shrug next to him. "I've never really cared enough to find one," the brunet admitted. "I've never really felt attracted to someone before."

Emil's damn heart couldn't just stay calm. He could hear it pounding in his ears, and he prayed that the lights wouldn't switch on just yet—not when his face was this red from all of the blood rushing to his cheeks. "So what about now?"

"Now?" Leon repeated. He hummed, stretching out the sound of a contemplative "Hmm." before replying, "Now I usually, like, think of you before anyone else, but you're not really like my _best_ friend. I've always thought Mei and Cheng to be my best friends... and we're, like, way closer than I am to Mei or Cheng even though I've known them longer. I'd be lying if I said that you weren't attractive either. I've always said that you're, like, really cute, and I mean it—same about you being my type."

"So..." Emil braced himself, knowing that it was too late to back out now that they've already broached this topic, as he tried to push away his flustered state. "What _are_ we?"

Leon was silent for a moment, and Emil was practically holding his breath until he turned blue. "I don't know," the Hongkonger confessed. "What do _you_ think we are?"

"I... don't know either," Emil muttered. "I agree that we're closer than friends though." Normal friends don't just cuddle and hug and hold-hands and kiss each other, and they're not really that attracted to each other, are they? "People say that we're like... a couple."

Leon hummed again, and the blond was puzzled when he found that Leon's little "Hmm" sounded more amused than anything. "That, like, doesn't have a bad ring to it, actually," the brunet mused. He turned his head, his wet locks of hair brushing against Emil's cheek, and the Icelander thought he could see Leon's eyes glow a faint golden brown. "Being a couple with Emil."

A shaky exhale left Emil's lips when he felt Leon press a kiss at the edge of his lips before they both shared a bit of a laugh. "I think we just skipped a bunch of steps though," Emil remarked.

Leon shrugged again. "Who cares? Let's just do things at our pace and be 'Emil and Leon' without any labels. We don't have to be friends or best friends or the couple people expect us to be. We're just us, and I'm comfortable like this with you. What about you?"

Emil nodded. "I don't hate it."

"Then we'll agree that whatever happens to us will be as it will be," Leon said with all seriousness. "Even if we end up staying friends or end up as a couple, that'll be us whenever we cross that bridge. There's no need to rush anything."

"Yeah, okay." Emil had no problems with it—this ambiguous relationship that could mean anything to either one of them. He was still with Leon, and Leon was still with him. They depended on one another, comforted one another, and supported one another. He was fine with that, and whatever will happen to them, he figured that they'll deal with it then. For now, they had each other, and that was all that mattered to Emil.

The lights in the lift flickered on, and the boys exchanged a relieved glance at one another. Standing back up after they felt the lift jolt and move towards the upper levels of the apartment complex, they waited patiently in silence before the doors opened. Emil led the way to Mathias' apartment and, after throwing their wet school bags on the kitchen counter, led the way into his room. He tossed Leon some clothes to borrow and grabbed a set for himself as well. "You can use the bathroom down the hall. I'll use Mathias'," Emil informed his friend shortly.

"Okay, cool," Leon responded. "But, like, if I'm done first, I'm raiding your fridge, by the way."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you," Emil retorted bluntly before he shuffled towards Mathias' master bedroom.

He had only been in Mathias' room once or twice, and in a stark contrast to the man's boisterous nature, his bedroom was actually quite well-kept if you ignored the unmade bed and the occasional sock on the floor. He supposed it was because Mathias spent most of his time manning his bakery though; otherwise, it probably would have resembled something similar to a war zone. His bathroom was only slightly better. All of his generic shampoo and body wash bottles were lined neatly on a single rack in his shower cubicle, and it didn't really surprise Emil when he found a rubber duck here and there either.

Emil twisted the shower knobs, letting the drops of warm water pour from the shower head, before immersing himself entirely underneath the spray.

"So, he thinks being a couple sounds nice, huh?" Emil muttered to himself in Icelandic. He couldn't suppress a smile, but—then again—he didn't really have a reason to do that. Nobody could see him in Mathias' shower cubicle grinning with delight anyway. Eventually, Emil told himself, we'll get there. They weren't just normal friends, after all.

After washing his hair and scrubbing his body clean, Emil threw on his plain sweater, boxer briefs, and pyjama bottoms. He marched out of Mathias' room and threw his wet clothes into the washer. Figuring that he might as well wash the rest of his clothes, he strolled to his room and carried his laundry hamper to the washing machine just as Leon came out of the bathroom towel drying his dark hair. He wore a plain t-shirt with drawstring bottoms, but he still managed to look—much to Emil's exasperation—as perfect as ever.

"Just throw your clothes in here," Emil told Leon shortly. "I'll wash them, too." The Hongkonger shrugged and tossed his wet uniform into Emil's laundry hamper, thanking him casually, before he informed the blond that he'll prepare something for them. Without further ado, Leon poked his head into Mathias' refrigerator while Emil was doing laundry.

The brunet grabbed a carton of eggs, a block of cheese, and some deli ham from the fridge before he began to search through the cabinets. He pulled out a medium sized bowl and a cheese grater as well as some salt and pepper Mathias had in some shakers when he realised that the Dane was likely not to have soy sauce or anything of the like. He cracked four eggs into the bowl, throwing the shells into the nearby waste bin, and began to stir the yolk and egg whites with a small whip he found when he saw that there were no chopsticks for him to use. When the mixture was well blended, he began to shred a few slices of deli ham. He added a pinch of salt and a dash of pepper before whisking once again.

"What are you making?" Emil asked Leon as he came around to the kitchen.

"An omelette," answered Leon shortly. "I figured I shouldn't mess with the raw fish in your freezer to make _sashimi_."

Emil cracked a wry smile at the slight referencing the one time Leon tried a Finnish dish that Tino, Mathias' cousin-in-law, brought over to their apartment when he came with Berwald, Mathias' actual cousin, a few weekends back. "Do you need any help?" the blond inquired of his friend as he watched Leon's back.

"Mm, yeah, I forgot to get a pan," Leon told his friend shortly. "Could you, like, set up your stove?"

"Sure," replied the Icelander as he began to shuffle around the kitchen as well. He set up a pan, turned up the gas to medium heat, and scooped a bit of butter onto the pan, spreading the melted butter around until Leon poured in the mixture. Standing off to the side, he watched as Leon skilfully flipped the omelette around when it was halfway cooked before he grated the cheese onto of the cooking omelette. Emil noted, "You seem used to this."

"You know how much Marianne likes to cook," Leon replied. "Like, Sifu is the same, too. I picked it up from both of them. Whenever Marianne isn't around to cook, it's my job to prevent Arthur from coming near the kitchen."

Emil chuckled quietly. He nearly had the pleasure to taste-test one of Arthur's infamous black scones had Leon not informed his guardian that they had a "date" at the local cinema. Even the smell—well, more like the _fumes—_ had made him a bit nauseous.

"We have pancake mix," Emil informed shortly. "Should we make some pancakes, too?"

"Sure."

A few minutes later, the two of them sat at the small dining table in Mathias' apartment sharing a plate of ham and cheese omelette as well as a stack of pancakes drenched with maple syrup. They had quickly finished Leon's omelette and were currently completing for the rest of the pancakes. Caught in the middle of a fork fight, Leon managed to wrench the last of the pancakes away from Emil, and just as he was about to swallow it whole, the Hongkonger caught sight of Emil's slight pout. Sighing, he leaned over the table and chimed monotonously, though with a bit of amusement, "Say 'Ahh'!"

Emil flushed in embarrassment and retorted, "I can feed myself!"

"'Ahh'!"

"I'm _not_ going to say—!" the blond was forced to swallow his words when Leon popped the bit of pancake into Emil's mouth, grinning deviously all the meanwhile. Emil's blush brightened into a deeper red, and Leon only knew elation at that very moment.

"How cute."

"Shut up," Emil muttered after he swallowed the pancake. "You're doing dishes."

"Yes, Ice darling."

Leon was certain that Emil's blush extended all the way to the back of his neck and the tip of his ears. It really was cute.

A few minutes later, after cleaning up their mess, the two boys had gathered in the living room with a dry towel and a bag of rice to address another one of their problems—well, more Emil's problem than Leon's.

"So, like, this _should_ work—in theory—but given how old the model is, the warranty might be expired if anything goes wrong," Leon informed Emil bluntly. The two of them were settled on Mathias' couch, waiting for their clothes in the dryer, with Emil curiously watching Leon repair his waterlogged phone. He had removed the case, the SIM card, and the battery after completely powering off the old iPhone. Then he had wiped off any liquid and stored it in a bag of rice that Mathias had lying around to soak up any remaining liquid. "Should be good in two days though. Just, like, make sure to wipe off the dust when you check if it works."

"Thanks, Leon."

"I think your best bet is to, like, have Mathias buy you a new phone though," Leon responded as he reclined on the couch, dropping his head onto Emil's lap. "'cause, honestly, even if it works, your phone's a bit outdated, Ice."

Emil rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Tell me something I _don't_ know."

"Xiao Chun."

Well, that had certainly caught him off-guard. Emil blinked curiously at Leon, but the Hongkonger already had his eyes closed, resting. "What's Si—Xia—'Xiao Chun'?" the platinum blond questioned quietly, stuttering over the pronunciation. For some reason, he felt as though Leon had suddenly dropped another serious topic onto the two of them.

"That's my name," Leon replied, "my real name—the one on my birth certificate. I'm Li Xiao Chun, but 'you can just call me Leon'—remember? First day of school."

Right, Emil recalled inwardly. Mrs. Edelstein had stumbled over his name, unused to seeing and reading a Chinese name. Leon's wasn't the only one either. Most Chinese and Korean names were mispronounced on the first day of school although she seemed fine reading off Japanese names, but, regardless, Leon was one of the few who had given her an alternative name to use.

"Why are you telling me this now?" Emil asked Leon softly as he began to stroke the silken strands of hair. Even though Leon had used his shampoo today, the brunet's hair was as soft as ever; Emil briefly wondered how his hair was _never_ like that.

"You said to tell you something that you didn't know," Leon reasoned almost childishly. "Only, like, three people know my real name though—Arthur, Marianne, and you. My parents don't count." _Because they're dead_. The last three words had gone unspoken, but the implication was quite clear. "I used to hate my real name."

"Why?" Emil pressed as gently as he could. He wasn't really sure if Leon wanted to talk about it, but the Icelander figured that his friend wouldn't have mentioned it if he wasn't willing to clarify and elaborate.

"I don't remember," Leon confessed, "but I know that it used to make me _really_ sad... like really crazy sad—depressed, even. It might have something to do with my parents. That's why Arthur gave me a new name, and since Arthur was my godfather, he had child custody of me."

And Leon doesn't remember his parents, Emil reminded himself. "I'm sure that they must have really loved you," the blond murmured. "They left you Arthur, didn't they?" And Arthur was devoted to Leon's well-being. Emil could see that for himself. It was in the way the guardian and ward pair interacted and in the way the guardian would secretly do anything to make sure that his ward was comfortable.

"Yeah, I guess... Do you, like, want to know something else that you don't know?"

Indulging his friend, Emil asked, "What don't I know?"

"I don't get as many nightmares when you're around," muttered the Hongkonger. He yawned in a rather cat-like manner. His eyelids fluttered over his eyes, keeping them half-open, as he brought himself to make eye contact with Emil. He raised a hand, cupping the side of Emil's face affectionately. "I'm going to take a nap. It's been a long day. Like, that history test totally killed me; it was crazy."

"I think I did okay."

"'Okay' isn't good enough for Sifu. Seriously, I wouldn't be surprised if he, like, cut my pay-cheque because I did 'okay,'" Leon griped. He turned over his hand, brushing the back of his hand against Emil's cheek, before dropping his hand back onto the couch. "He'd totally be happy, too—saves him money."

Chuckling, Emil brushed aside Leon's bangs and remarked, "Just go to sleep if you're going to sleep, idiot." Leon had already nodded off though, and Emil was starting to feel a bit drowsy as well. He rested against the back of the couch and prayed that Mathias wasn't going to get home early tonight. Hopefully, he'd still be caught in the November rain outside.

* * *

The sound of classical music filled the air, and from underneath the piano, Leon kicked his legs to the tempo and beat. Sunlight poured into the studio from the window behind the pianist and crept a bit of a ways underneath the grand piano. His bright brown eyes pulled away from the colourful pages filled with shapes, figures, and simple Chinese script as he crawled out of his shaded shelter to peer curiously at the pianist. He pulled himself onto the stool and watched as long, knobby fingers danced across the black and white keys.

"Xiao Chun, do you want to try?"

He remembered a wide smile beaming with pride and eyes sparkling with delight—a visage that brightened when he nodded his little head. Fatherly hands took hold of his smaller hands, seemingly engulfing them, guiding them to the keys that were still much too big for his fingers. "Why don't you try hitting a key?"

Pressing down on a key, a single note rang throughout the studio, resonating off the walls and sending shivers down his spine. His father—father? This was him?—chuckled a deep, amused laugh within his throat when he saw how his son—a Xiao Chun who'd yet become Leon—startled at the sudden noise.

"Isn't it amazing?" inquired his father when a beaming smile. "Just a single note could become so loud. Who do you want it to reach? Who do you want to hear your song? Who do you want to play for? Music is grand, isn't it? Being able to transcend both words and actions, being able to resonate within your being, with just the vibrations of sound waves alone... though I guess you're still quite young to understand me."

" _Leon?_ "

" _A bàh_?"

"What?"

Leon's eyes fluttered open, falling upon a soft violet gaze that reminded him a bit of gentle lavender flowers rolling in the spring breeze, and replied, "Nothing. Just a dream." Sitting upright, the brunet held his head as though to stop the momentary vertigo from throwing him off-balance, but his actions were misinterpreted by his friend as an after-effect of his dreams.

"Are you okay?" Emil asked with concern most evident in his voice.

"Just peachy," Leon responded shortly. "What's up?"

"Mathias is home," the blond informed tersely. There was a slight scowl on his lips as a sign that the Dane had done or said something unnecessary to his nephew. "He asked if you wanted a ride home."

"Nah, it's cool," Leon replied. "I'll just crash in your room and wear the uniform you just washed tomorrow. We can head to school together."

"People will talk, you know?"

"Don't they talk enough?" retorted the Hongkonger as he stretched his limbs. "It's nothing new. Besides, if I want to walk to school with you, then I'll do it. Like, honestly, who cares what other people think? It's none of their business about what goes on between us."

Emil smiled subtly at his friend. "That's true." He stilled when Leon pressed his lips against his cheek and muttered, turning his head to the side to avoid looking at the brunet, "What was that for?"

"Good morning kiss."

"It's still night-time, idiot."

"What does it matter? I just, like, woke up."

There was some mischievous snickering off to the side, and two pairs of eyes gravitated towards the source of the noise. Mathias was leaning against the corridor entrance with a wide grin on his lips—obviously entertained by the whole scene—before remarking, "Take it to the bedroom, you guys!" Leon shrugged in response while Emil flushed ten shades of red. "I'll take it that you're staying the night, Leon?"

"Yeah. Hope you don't mind."

"Nah, it's cool. Just leave the door open so that I know you two aren't doing something fishy in my apartment if you're not going to stay in Lukas' room. You're still considered minors in America, you know?"

"Mathias, shut up, you idiot!" Emil snapped indignantly, chucking a throw pillow his uncle's way. The Dane just laughed merrily and disappeared into the master bedroom. He glared pointedly at his friend, who was casually going through his phone to shoot Arthur and Marianne a quick message about his plans. "This is all your fault. You've been too... _touchy_ lately."

Leon rolled his eyes and slid right up to Emil, pressing their arms together, before he teased, "Do you hate it?"

"Shut up. Just shut up."

Leon pressed another kiss against the corner of Emil's lips in a quick apology. "Would you rather me stay in your brother's room?"

The blond stared at his friend incredulously. Perhaps Leon was thinking of how Emil would be comfortable under the same roof as both the Dane and the Hongkonger by suggesting to stay in the guest room Lukas used during seasonal holidays, but it was still hard for the Icelander to fathom. After all, Leon had just admitted that he didn't have as many nightmares when they were together. Was he willing to risk that just because Emil didn't want to be embarrassed by his uncle?

Sighing through his nose, Emil shyly pressed a kiss to Leon's temple. Leon did most of the touching and the kissing, so the blond was positive that he must have been going crazy. "Stay with me," Emil mumbled under the breath so quietly that Leon almost couldn't hear him.

Deciding against teasing his friend, Leon grabbed hold of his friend's hand and replied just as softly, "Okay. I'll stay with you." A silence fell over the two of them, and the only noise surrounded them was the last of the rainfall that pattered against the window. Quietly, Leon stood on his feet, still holding onto Emil's hand as tightly as he could, before pulling lightly on his hand. "Let's go."

"Yeah," Emil replied softly before taking the lead and pulling Leon in his bedroom. As requested of them, they left the door open a crack. Emil sat back down on his bed while Leon collapsed on the computer chair at his desk. He rolled from the desk towards the keyboard set to the side and powered it on, adjusting the volume so that it didn't disturb Mathias. "What are you doing?"

"Messing around," Leon replied casually. He tried his best to recall his dream and pressed a single key with his forefinger. One note followed after, and although the brunet avoided some of the more different chords and played only bits and pieces of the melody with just his right hand, Emil could identify the song quite easily.

"You know Chopin?" Emil inquired of his friend curiously. "That's 'Nocturne' opus nine, number 2, isn't it?"

"Is it?" Leon mused almost sheepishly as he faltered in his playing. He hit one key randomly and shrugged. "I really don't know. I just remembered it."

"You don't just 'remember' something, Leon," Emil insisted. "Did Arthur teach you this song?"

"He taught me, like, 'Ode to Joy' and 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' and 'Moonlight Sonata' and the easy stuff," Leon answered. "I don't play piano often."

"That's true," Emil mumbled. "Your technique is poor... But, still, I don't think you just randomly remember how to play a song you don't know. There are limits to be some kind of prodigal talent, you know? Dancing, martial arts, and innate piano skills—you're unbelievable, you know that?"

Leon huffed lightly in a form of quiet laughter. "I'll take that as a compliment," the Hongkonger retorted. "But, you know, it wasn't as though I, like, didn't ever work hard or anything. Sifu drilled me like crazy on _wushu_. I mean, it was seriously nuts, Ice! You'd think the geezer was insane!" He shrugged and added, "I guess, like, that's what helped me out when Mei tried teaching me how to dance. It's not something that's hereditary, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it," Emil muttered. It still doesn't change the fact that Leon could learn how to play piano decently any moment though, and with his charisma, it wouldn't be impossible for him to shine in the spotlight either. Meanwhile, Emil would still be here, clinging to the shadows, hoping to remain invisible, and living a quiet, peaceful life. Leon was different from him. The blond's noticed the straying gazes his friend had gathered simply by walking down the hall.

"What the hell are you thinking about now?" Leon mused as he switched off Emil's electronic keyboard. He flopped gracelessly onto Emil's mattress before rolling onto his back and staring up at Emil, who had his back pressed against the pillows and headboard of his bed. Giving his friend a wry smile, the Hongkonger remarked, "It's probably, like, something trivial again. You always think about something trivial and get yourself worked up over it."

"It's not trivial," Emil protested.

"It _is_ trivial," Leon retorted. "So tell me about it."

Emil rolled his eyes and snapped, "Only if you tell me about your dream."

"Fine," Leon agreed without a bit of hesitation. "I was in Hong Kong again, and my father tried to teach me how to play piano. Your turn."

"You better not have been lying to me," Emil muttered. It did explain why Leon had a sudden urge to play with his keyboard though—and maybe why he knew a couple of keys for one of Chopin's Nocturnes. Sighing, he confessed, "Are you thinking about... becoming famous one day?"

"Not really, why?" Leon replied shortly.

"No reason," Emil mumbled. "A lot of our classmates want to be famous though."

"Well, it's hard to make a living off music and dance and art and all that unless you're, like, a professional," Leon agreed, "but I'm not really thinking that far into the future yet."

"You only have one year left of high school, Leon," the blond reminded in an almost chastising manner. "You can't work at a boba place for the rest of your life, you know? Besides, your ' _sifu_ ' won't have any of that either."

"I know that," the Hongkonger assured. He reached for Emil's hand and held onto it, squeezing it lightly, "But, like, I just want to spend a little bit more time with you right now. Is that so bad? We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

Glancing down at his friend, Emil couldn't help but wonder if Leon was a bit anxious about the future as well; however, as usual, the brunet gave nothing away in his expression.

* * *

"It seems that the student council is forming a separate committee for the planning and coordination of the winter formal in late December," Mrs. Edelstein announced right after she had taken role. "They're looking for two volunteers from each class, so is there anyone who's willing to help them out?"

Whispers, naturally, flooded the classroom.

"I can't! I have to practise for my recital!"

"There's a mathematics tournament I have to prepare for!"

"I have a science exhibition!"

"There's a game coming up! I can't skip out on practice!"

A loud clatter caught the attention of all of her students, and their focus immediately returned to the brown haired woman standing at the fore. Although she smiled politely and pleasantly at them, it was obvious that she was reining in her frustration. "I asked if there was anyone who could help—not for anyone to complain," she stated firmly, spitting out her words from behind gritted teeth. Sighing, she mentioned, "I figured this would happen, so I took the liberty to choose our representatives." Scanning the room, she pointed first to the small blonde shying away from her gaze, "Lili Zwingli!" Her forefinger shifted targets towards the window seats. "Emil Steilsson! You two are now obligated to become our committee members." When the Icelander looked about ready to protest, Mrs. Edelstein added, "If anyone wants to replace them, then speak now."

Emil glared at Leon through the window glass, telling him to do something, but the Hongkonger seemed adamant on avoiding his friend's pointed stare. He might have thought of Emil as a special friend, but he also didn't have time to kill for the winter formal committee either. He had dance practice and a job, after all, and although Emil's got a piano recital for which to rehearse, Leon figured this was a perfect chance for the wallflower to make some more friends on his own. Lili and Emil got along fair enough anyway.

"Okay, that settles it!" Mrs. Edelstein exclaimed. "You two have a meeting after school at four in room 134, okay? Work hard, you two!"

Just like Lili, Emil seemed to disappear into the safety of his arms, cradling his head atop his desk. He could hear Leon snickering behind him, whispering him a "Congratulations," and Emil was content to ignore Leon for the rest of the day. Once lunch hour came, Emil was quick to jump to his feet and hunt down Mrs. Edelstein for some answers to his questions. He stepped into the staff room and spotted the history teacher making some corrections on a test before he approached her. "Mrs. Edelstein?" he addressed her cautiously.

"What is it, Emil?"

"Why did you choose me to be a part of the committee... exactly?" Emil inquired hesitantly. "I don't really stand out or anything."

Sighing, she put down her red felt-tip pen and pivoted in her chair to stare up at him. "That's why I'm doing this," she informed him shortly. "You keep to yourself too much, and high school is the time to enjoy your youth with your friends. Think of it as a catalyst." There was a strange gleam in her eyes as she uttered the last sentence. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder."

"What... do you mean by that?"

"Nothing really," she replied dismissively. "All you have to know is that I'm right." Turning back to her stack of papers, she picked up her red pen and began to mark on the student's test all over again. "Is that all you need?"

"Yeah, I guess," Emil muttered.

"Don't mumble. Nobody can understand you if you mumble," Mrs. Edelstein chastised, a warm smile on her lips like that of a mother's. "Chin up and look straight ahead of you, or else you might miss something that you've been looking for."

With that, Emil left the staff room and went to the classroom to fetch his bag. He found Leon still seated at his desk whereas Mei and Cheng had already left for the dance studio. "You waited for me?" he inquired of the Hongkonger quietly. He was surprised that Leon could hear him over the noise and chatter of their classmates.

"I figured you'd be back," Leon explained shortly. "Like, you left your bag here and everything. You okay?"

"Yeah," replied Emil, "but I think I'll be in the music room today. The meeting will cut into my practice time."

"Okay. I'll walk you there," Leon informed the blond shortly.

"The music room is on the third floor."

"Yeah, I know."

"And the dance studio is on the ground floor."

"Yeah, I know."

"You'll be climbing three flights of stairs back and forth."

"Yeah, I know."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, like, I'm already late anyway, and Mei wouldn't kill me for trying to spend some time with you," the brunet explained with the slightest hint of amusement on his lips. "I told you that she likes you, didn't I?"

Emil rolled his eyes as the two of them grabbed their gear and left the classroom. "You did," the blond affirmed. "In some kind of feminine way, apparently. I still don't know what that means exactly." When Leon parted his lips to explain to Emil, the Icelander gave his friend a slight glare. "I don't really want to know what it means either."

"It just means that you're pretty."

"Leon!" Emil cried indignantly, scandalised by how casually his friend spoke. His cheeks reddened the more he thought about what Leon had just said, and the more he tried to forget it, the more he found it difficult to ignore. "Shut up, you idiot!"

Leon chortled under his breath and grabbed hold of Emil's hand as a sign to show that he meant no offence from his words. "It's true though," Leon persisted. "You're _very_ pretty." The two of them strolled towards the conservatory in silence. Leon had nothing more to say on the subject, and Emil had nothing more that he wanted to say.

Climbing up three flights of stairs, Leon laughed a bit upon seeing that Emil was a bit breathless. "You know that they have lifts in the back, right? Come on, Ice! It's, like, already November!"

The Icelander glared at Leon in exasperation. "You could have told me earlier!" the pianist spat out between pants. He didn't speak any more than that because it would usurp more energy. Pushing open one of the doors to a music room, Emil dropped his bag to the side of the stool and collapsed on top of the stool with a sigh. He glowered at Leon and muttered, "How come _you_ look okay?"

"It helps that I exercise every day for more than an hour."

Emil rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Leon ran his fingers through Emil's hair with a subtle smile that was filled with fondness. "I'll see you later then," the brunet promised.

"Okay."

* * *

The meeting was full of people screaming at each other—to say the very least. Emil sat towards the back of the room next to Lili, scowling the entire time, as people debated on the theme and over the entertainment. He kept glancing impatiently towards the clock because his phone was still wet and in repairs. (He really did have half a mind to ask Mathias for a new phone though; it wasn't as though he had damaged it purposefully either since the rain was out of his control.) Currently, they had settled on a theme for the most part—a "Winter Wonderland" sort of theme, so to speak—and now they were speaking about the matter of entertainment.

Currently, they were trying to settle the issue of whether or not to have live music or a DJ. It was a bit outrageous to ask for someone to play the entire time though in Emil's opinion. Although he'd love to play piano all day, he doubted that anyone would last that long under the spotlight. He gets incredibly stuffy on stage, and the heat from the lights helped very little. Glancing around the room, he saw that most students in the room were from the general education track rather than a special school—such as the science centre, the humanities hall, or the arts conservatory. They were probably "too busy" like Emil who had a recital coming up.

"Emil, what do you think?"

He turned his head and found Lili staring at him expectantly with her big, round teal eyes. "What do I think of what?" he asked her quizzically, blinking in confusion.

"You're a musician, right?" one of the girls at the front addressed him. She was a fairly slender girl with deeply tanned skin and rich brown hair with honey coloured eyes. She spoke with a slight French accent that was, in Emil's opinion, rather bright and cheery. If memory served him correctly, this was Michelle, one of the most popular girls at school who was known for her bubbly personality. "Lili says so. We don't have many musicians in this room—most of us are gen-ed, social science, and art students—so we wanted to know what you think of having a live band perform instead of a DJ."

"They won't be playing the entire time, right?" Emil responded hesitantly in his usual tone—soft, quiet, and a bit stand-offish. "I think that it's fine if they're performing for two or three hours. The heat from the spotlight can get intense quickly, and there's also the matter of their well-being, too. If they're not used to playing for long periods of time, their hands could blister and bleed. I think it's a safer bet to go with a DJ, but if you really insist on having a live performance, then make sure that they'll be taking breaks. If anything, have both a band and a DJ and let them take turns."

"The budget costs don't allow for that!" protested another girl with blonde hair pulled into a long braid. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her small nose, her blue eyes glowering at Emil for even suggesting such a thing. "We can't afford to hire both a band _and_ a DJ! Weren't you paying attention earlier?"

No, Emil confessed inwardly, I really wasn't.

"Lucille!" Michelle argued. "We could just ask one of the bands at school to play! We don't have to hire one! There are already clubs volunteering to perform anyway! If you treat it as an extracurricular activity, then you won't have to pay them!"

Huffing indignantly, Lucille—whom Emil recognised as one of the most intelligent girls in the entire school—crossed her eyes. Still glowering at all of them, she remarked, "Fine, then I'll leave the band to you and Emil Steilsson since someone else has a DJ in mind that we could hire for less than a hundred dollars." Michelle gave Emil a relieved smile, and the blond only nodded in return.

"It's great that the music is settled," Lili chirped from beside him, smiling in relief. "Emil, your friend is performing at the winter formal, correct? The Chinese one?"

"He's not Chinese," Emil corrected sharply. Surprised at his own tone, the blond watched his tongue before he hurt the smaller girl. "He's from Hong Kong; he likes to make a distinction." All of them do, actually, the pianist recalled. Both Leon and Mei sometimes were terribly offended whenever someone called them "Chinese" while Cheng, Kasem, and Lien possessed greater patience. Leon and Mei really were like twins.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she apologised quickly. She dropped her head in shame, and guilt washed over Emil.

"It's fine, really. I mean, they're all political reasons why Leon and his friends get a little affronted about it, but it's cool. Anyone could make that mistake," Emil assured the blonde. "And, yeah, they'll be performing."

"They were wonderful at the club festival in September!" Lili recalled a bit nostalgically. "I didn't quite expect the ending though!"

"I don't think anyone could expect firecrackers to go off indoors..."

* * *

"Okay, so here's our battle plan," Mei declared as they huddled in a group at the dance studio floor. Lunch was spent going over potential songs and themes, and now during their after school hours, Mei had finally settled on a course of action. "Ideally, we'll be given a fifteen minute slot to perform, which would give us plenty of time to show off what we can do, but with what I've heard from Michelle, it's likely that we'll only be given six to ten minutes. It looks like the glee club, the _acapella_ club, and a band are going to perform, too."

"We'll be on stage between singers?" Cheng mused. "That'll make us stand out."

"Considering that we're the only ones dancing," Kasem mentioned, "we have to leave a pretty good impression." Smiling at Leon, he added, "Without firecrackers, I mean." Everyone turned to give Leon a pointed look in a warning manner.

"I think I have an idea on how you can make up for scaring away our potential members, Leon," Lien remarked. There was a bit of an uncharacteristically devious spark in her eye.

"That's a good idea, Lien!" Mei chirped.

"She didn't even say anything yet..." Leon grumbled.

"She doesn't have to," Cheng remarked, "because everyone—but you—is thinking of the same thing."

"I'm being used again, aren't I?"

"You got it, Pretty Boy," Kasem teased, poking Leon in the ribs lightly.

* * *

 **A/N:** I've made Hungary into a (not so subtle) fujoshi here like everyone else seems to do, haha. It's a bit of a catalyst though for what needs to happen in December. At any rate, now November in the story-sequence is all wrapped up, but I had been planning to release this chapter on Hong Kong's birthday.

Originally, there was going to be a Thanksgiving scene because the story takes place in New York, but considering that Arthur and Marianne are Europeans, they probably don't feel the need to celebrate an American holiday like their neighbours when it's basically a day of feasting. They probably _do_ celebrate a little bit because of Alfred and Matthew though since their boys were born and raised on North American soil - especially during kindergarten years when Thanksgiving was taught in their school lessons. In the end, I felt that it was kind of pointless since there wasn't really much aside from describing their meals (and in this chapter I felt that would be _especially_ redundant). Not to mention, Emil wouldn't celebrate Thanksgiving even with a boisterous Mathias, but it's likely that he would visit the Kirklands to join them for dinner on Thanksgiving day. Additionally, Lukas most likely dropped by to visit his family during Thanksgiving break (usually three to seven days depending on the school/university).

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, and followed! I'll also try starting to reply to guest reviewers here:

 **Guest (Jun 20):** I'm glad you're fine with the pacing! I'm also really honoured that you're really enjoying reading this fic, too. Most of my details are really just minor things that I felt would fit in with an Asian(-American) perspective, as in Leon's case, and those who are interested, as in Emil's case, in exploring a different culture as well as tying them into canon. Thank you for reading and reviewing! I'll try my best to finish this story as soon as possible with the best outcome I can think of possibly writing!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: One December Night**

"What are you doing Christmas break?" Leon asked Emil as the two of them packed their bags to leave for their respective after hour activities.

Recently, Emil had to stop by the student council room to report about what was happening with the winter formal committee while Leon was spending around three hours after school with his dance crew every single day of the week. (Apparently, Yao was kind enough to work around their practice times—only to pack on their shifts during the weekends.) On the other hand, the winter formal committee met for almost an hour after classes, where they spent most of their time arguing, and so far they've only managed to book a ballroom at one of the local hotels and order the decorations. Now they have to prepare the set list and finalise the entertainment as well as catering aside from decorating themselves.

At times, it was a little overwhelming, and Emil was almost always ready to throw in the towel and call it quits. If he did, however, then he was sure that Lucille and Michelle would never let him off the hook, and he definitely couldn't handle Lili's disappointed expression. (It was like looking at a kicked puppy, for God's sake!) At any rate, he didn't put much thought into what he was doing for the upcoming holidays. However, tonight, Michelle let him off the hook so that he could at least practise for his recital.

"I'm not sure. I don't have anything planned, really," Emil confessed. "Lukas is coming to stay with Mathias and me though. I think his cousin, Berwald, and his family might come visit for a bit. I'm not too sure on the details yet."

"Then I hope Mathias and Lukas don't mind if I, like, steal you away on a date or two," Leon mused aloud. His casual way of speaking still managed to get under Emil's skin though, and the blond's cheeks noticeably reddened. "Like I won't take you away from your family on Christmas day, but I can't promise you anything on Christmas Eve. Could you, like, leave the twenty-fourth open for me? Same with New Years' Eve and maybe January first?"

Emil nodded stiffly, feeling a wave of shyness overwhelm him. "I'll try..."

"Cool," Leon chirped. "I'll text you the details. It's a good thing we managed to, like, at least salvage your SIM card."

Emil's old iPhone, in the end, was too old to survive the rainwater. Mathias got him one of the newer models through a couple of pulled strings, and most of Emil's few contacts were saved. Emil didn't really mind anyway; it wasn't like he had anything of real importance on his phone of all things. "Are you doing anything for Christmas break then?" the blond then asked his friend.

"Not really," Leon answered. "Marianne's family from France is, like, coming to visit this year though. I doubt Arthur's brothers are going to show up, too. They rarely ever do. Sifu might come by though since he's practically family—nosy, naggy family but family. But, seriously, I can't wait until we're done with the winter formal; that way, I can, like, finally relax for a bit!"

"How's that coming along, by the way?" Emil inquired of his friend as he zipped up his bag. "I heard you have a set formed already?"

"Yeah, we're performing to a song by a Japanese pop idol and one from some Korean boy band and throwing together a dance," Leon informed shortly. "Mei and Osaka have been trying to edit them into a mix that barely makes the cut for the time limit the committee gave us. Michelle said that we were given mood-maker duty, too."

"What... does that mean?" Emil was hesitant to ask. Sometimes, Michelle came up with the most outrageous ideas. At one point of the planning, she wanted to buy a snow machine and blow fake snow all throughout the room, and, of course, Lucille fought adamantly against that idea, reasoning that their budget wasn't enough to purchase such a contraption.

"It means that we're, like, given six to eight minutes on stage to set up a good mood, and then we have to stay the entire time and dance whenever we can," Leon explained. "That way, like, nobody is dissuaded from getting down on the dance floor."

Emil hummed in thought before remarking, "It kind of sounds like a backwards plan to me. You guys are really good; instead, you might keep people from the dance floor instead. It's like some sort of intimidation tactics or something."

"Then I guess I'll just drag you down there to dance with me," Leon teased lightly. "Do you have a date yet? You get to go for free since you're a part of the committee, right?"

"Right," Emil confirmed, "but I don't have a date. I don't even _want_ to go."

"What a waste," Leon remarked in a mock reprimand. "You have a free ticket, and you don't want to see what you've contributed your time to coordinate—or even see me dance!"

"That's why I'm still going," Emil retorted. When he saw that Leon was about ready to leave, a part of him wanted to grab him and hold him back so that they could spend a little bit more time talking. Even though they saw each other every day, they didn't get to spend as much time together because of finals and because of the planning for the winter formal. Nevertheless, Emil refrained and bid Leon goodbye.

"Oh yeah, Ice?"

"What?"

"Good luck at your recital tonight."

"T-Thanks..." Oh God, he was blushing— _again_. "You knew?"

"Well, you _are_ carrying an extra bag," Leon pointed out with a wry smile. "Like, that's your suit, right? I mean, what else could it be? You sure as hell aren't lugging, like, a dead body around or anything."

"Yeah, I guess," Emil answered shortly, feeling a wave of shyness wash over him. He cursed himself for behaving this way when he was used to reacting a little bit more curtly with Leon. The Hongkonger was sure to pick up his kind of behaviour and tease him. It was just that he was scared. He's never performed in front of such a large audience; neither has he performed under the name of prestigious school.

"Hey," Leon called out to him, reaching for Emil's hand and stopping the blond in his tracks, "look at me."

The Icelander was reluctant to pull his eyes away from the floor, but when he realised that Leon wouldn't cave, he raised his eyes to meet with Leon's. Pools of caramelised honey stared back at him with an almost reassuring gaze—almost because it was _Leon_ and because Leon was _mischievous_ —and suddenly, a sudden sting burst at the centre of his forehead. Emil jumped back from the shock, wrenching his hand free from Leon's hold, and hissed, rubbing the spot that Leon had just flicked with his middle finger. "What the hell was that for, idiot?!" he snapped at his supposed friend.

"Well, you were so serious; I had to, like, do something to lighten up the mood," Leon explained casually. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his cardigan and leaned against the wall, uncaring towards the attention that the two of them attracted. "You're the idiot here, Ice. Seriously, you think that you're, like, the only one who's scared shitless before he has to perform? Everyone's scared as fuck, man, because you're only given, like, five, ten minutes to present what you've put your heart and soul into for the past months."

Emil noticed that his hands—Leon's hands—seemed to be trembling as he spoke, and the blond realised that the Hongkonger was speaking from experience. Leon was also terrified of going up on stage, but that's never stopped him before. The idea was baffling to the Icelander, who had always thought of his friend as fearless, who had always thought of his friend as a charismatic star in the making, yet looking at Leon now, Emil could tell that Leon, too, was affected by the stage and the spotlight, that he wasn't as apathetic as he seemed.

"You have only a limited amount of time to show everyone what you can do," Leon continued, "and then there's that moment—just one moment—where they receive it. After that, it's completely up to them what they do with what you've just presented them. They can boo you off the stage, or they can cry or laugh or applaud you until their hands hurt. Hell, they might not even give a shit about you and clap for politeness! But, like, we're entertainers, so we live for that moment anyway despite what happens! You just never noticed that one moment because, like, you kept looking down.

"I mean, honestly, it's no different from a love confession. You pour everything from your heart to another person, and then you wait and see. Watch carefully, and they'll respond. It might not always be in kind, but that's okay. We take that and build onto it. This is what we _live for_."

The brunet pushed himself off the wall and sighed, giving Emil a weary smile, before he advised as calmly as he could at the time, "Just give it your all. Do everything you've done and more. Who do you want your song to reach? Who do you want to hear it? Who do you want to play for? Pour your heart and soul into it and then look up—not down, never down—into the faces of your audience. See what you've done to them. I know you can, so just, like, I dunno, relax."

That was all Leon wanted to say on the subject; Emil could tell from his body posture. His hands were still shoved into his pockets, and his shoulders were a bit stiff. He was uncomfortable after having spoken for so long. It was a bit out of his character to do so, but the blond supposed that they were the words Leon thought his friend needed to hear. In a way, he was grateful that Leon thought so much of him. "Are you heading to the conservatory?" Emil asked of his friend shortly. It was ninety-nine percent positive that Leon would say yes.

"Mm, yeah," Leon answered shortly.

"Okay, I'll walk you there," Emil replied, using the line Leon had used on him several weeks back. He wasn't sure if Leon had even remembered, but judging by the tiniest hint of a smirk on the Hongkonger's lips, Emil was a little bit more confident that Leon was aware that his words were being used against him. That, or Leon was really amused. For some reason, most of his actions warranted Leon's amusement.

"The music room is on the third floor," Leon remarked.

Emil could feel something pull at his heartstrings as he replied, "Yeah, I know."

"And the dance studio is on the ground floor."

"Yeah, I know."

"You'll be climbing three flights of floors after walking to the end of the corridor."

"Not if I know where the lift is," Emil retorted just as playfully.

"It's December already, Ice," Leon mused, "and you've only _just_ figured out where the lift is."

"Shut up, idiot!"

* * *

Leon twirled the microphone stand in a similar fashion as he would a bamboo staff, only to stop when he felt the metal pole hit something—or, rather, _someone_. "Whoops," Leon chimed apologetically in his usual deadpan manner when he realised that he had hit Cheng in the shin. "Sorry about that, Cheng. Mei wanted to incorporate more original stunts in some places of the choreography. I guess mic twirling is out of the question."

Their fearsome leader was nowhere to be seen in the studio since she was called out by the winter formal committee. The remaining four members were requested to practice the more difficult parts of the song, and one of them was having two lift two people into the air for an extended period of time. Leon had agreed to be Cheng's temporary partner until Mei returned, but Leon had more muscle mass than their little Taiwanese princess.

"No, it's fine," Cheng assured his friend with his amiable smile.

Their heads simultaneously turned to the door when they heard it open, and in popped Mei. The Hongkonger asked of his friend, "So, like, what did Michelle want from us?"

"Michelle said confirmed her suspicions; the lead singer of the band can't stay the entire night because something came up," the Taiwanese girl said as she re-entered the studio floor. Fixing her side ponytail, she added, "Now they don't have a finale, so they're asking us to do something about it because the glee club can't put together something in time—same with the _acapella_ club. She was in a tight spot, so I ended up agreeing. Is that cool with you guys?"

Everyone exchanged a glance, and Cheng spoke on behalf of the others, "We can't ignore a friend in need, can we, Mei? It'll be a tight squeeze, but at least we started practising when you said that you were weary, too." He smiled kindly at his friend and inquired, "What do you have planned?"

"Well, instead of doing two songs combined, we'll split up our acts. We'll go in with Big Bang's 'Tonight.' That'll be for the time slot Michelle promised us," Mei stated firmly. "Then for the finale, we'll end up doing our second song, Yamashita Tomohisa's 'Loveless.' Fortunately, the winter formal committee wanted a slow song, and we have a slow song—even if it's in another language."

"I'm guessing that both of them will be the full length songs since we don't have time to add another dance to our set," Lien deduced. "We'll still be playing pop idol Leon Kirkland for Yamapi's song, right?"

"Exactly," Mei affirmed with a nod of her head. "Do you think we can learn the rest of the songs in time? I think that if we extend our practices, then we'll be able to make it—just barely."

Kasem shrugged and replied, "Cheng said it earlier; it'll be a tight squeeze. I think we'll be able to do the Big Bang one without any problems. I'm worried about the second part of 'Loveless' since there's not much dancing for the leading role."

"Leon's the 'star' here," Cheng spoke up as he glanced over to his friend. "What do you think?"

"I don't mind staying an extra two or three hours on weekends to practise," Leon replied. "On weekdays, we could stay until they decide to kick us out for all I care whenever I don't have my shifts at Sifu's place. I'll figure out what to do for my solo."

Mei stared at him with all seriousness. "Yamapi's 'Loveless'... Can you do it?"

Leon stared back at her and replied just as calmly, "Of course, I can."

* * *

"Emil Steilsson, please stand by in the wing!" one of the stage assistants called backstage. Emil could feel his heart pound in his chest, threatening to implode within his body or break out of his body and explode from this restlessness—whichever came first. His hands were shaking, and a few beads of sweat were already dripping from his forehead even though he wasn't underneath the sweltering spotlight. Now that he was at the wing, however, his mind was racing with his heart as though to test which one of them would fail first.

When the stage manager waved for him to get his ass on stage, Emil had half a mind to bolt and half a mind to stay bolted to the floor. His body moved on its own though and directed him to the stage. He vaguely heard the sound of a door opening, but his mind was elsewhere. He bowed to his instructors sitting in the front row and kept his eyes rooted to the stage floor as he shuffled towards the piano stool in front of the magnificent grand. He loosened his blazer, unfastening the lowest button, before adjusting the height of the stool. He was hesitant to raise his hands and brush his fingers against the black and white keys, however.

"Emil Steilsson? I hear he's the half-brother of the violinist, Lukas Bondevik."

" _That_ violinist? He must be talented, too. I hear their family is made of talents."

"I've never really heard of an Emil Steilsson though."

"Maybe he's not as talented as his brother."

"That must suck for him—to have to live in his brother's shadow."

 _I can hear you_ , Emil hissed inwardly as he narrowed his eyes at the keys as though they were the source of his suffering. The platinum blond couldn't help it. He wasn't his brother, and he would never be his brother. He wasn't like most of the kids here who wanted to play professionally. Emil just simply wanted to play for the sake of playing right now. If that meant that he didn't belong here, then so be it; he was already on stage! He couldn't just run off like a coward now that he's shown his face to the public!

"Dude, Leon, you totally reek!"

" _Alfred_!"

Emil couldn't help but crack a smile. Even though he was the quietest person of his family, Matthew's tiny voice seemed to carry over most of the audience, amplified due to the acoustics in the auditorium. That was when he realised that the entire Kirkland family was there, supporting him. Marianne _did_ say that she wanted to attend a piano recital for the first time in ages, and whatever his wife wanted, Arthur was sure to do—otherwise suffer through another banter that would last nearly a month. Leon must have come right after dance practice, too, if he smelt so badly. It was strange because, normally, you would never see Leon so dishevelled in public.

(Meanwhile, Leon was edging away from Alfred in his seat as though to pretend he didn't know his foster brother. Arthur and Marianne were doing the same in the opposite direction. Arthur kept his eyes trained on the stage while Marianne was nearly covering her face in shame—sorry for her oldest son's behaviour. Mathias, who had joined them, was trying to stifle his laughter at Alfred's outburst, and Matthew, on the other hand, was at a loss as to what to do with his twin. He certainly couldn't hide because of their uncanny resemblance to one another.)

Leon's words echoed in his mind. Who do you want your song to reach? Who do you want to hear it? Who do you want to play for? Smiling, Emil made up his mind and brought his fingers to rest against the black and white keys before pressing against them, making a solid chord resound within the auditorium.

 _I want to play for you, Leon, as thanks for everything you've done._

"That's a great intro," Arthur praised his son's friend under his breath. "Tchaikovsky's waltz from _Swan Lake_ , I see—opus twenty." He plays so gently, the composer thought to himself, as though he was dancing with a lover, yet it also sounds quite resolved and determined... kind of like a confession of love.

He couldn't help but spare a glance at Leon, who was staring fixedly at Emil. His son didn't even blink; he didn't tear his eyes away from the pianist at all—like he would miss something if he did. There was a storm of emotions behind Leon's clouded eyes, and upon realising what it was, Arthur smiled to himself. He reached out for his wife's hand and squeezed it tightly. She glanced at him momentarily with a questioning glance but didn't question him when she spotted the lingering traces of a smile on his lips. She smiled as well and leaned towards his warmth, still watching Emil pour his heart and soul into his song.

Slight nuances of little emotions—love and joy, sorrow and bitterness, renewed strength and determination—flowed into the audience, holding them captive like they were caught underneath freshly falling rain, soaking them with the colour of his music, unable to escape from becoming drenched by the bits and pieces of his soul.

"It's reached him, Emil," Arthur wanted to tell the pianist, but in the end, he kept that little secret to himself. The most bitter-sweet thing about parenthood was having to watch your child grow up and mature. At first, Arthur thought Leon like Matthew when it came to maturity, but his littlest boy was just as childish as Alfred. He'd have to let Leon settle this one on his own.

On stage, Emil finished the last of his song, ending with a strong finish, and dropped his hands onto his lap. They were still trembling—much to his amusement—and Emil had to smile when he found that he was still "scared as fuck," as Leon had said earlier.

 _Pour your heart and soul into it and then look up—not down, never down—into the faces of your audience. See what you've done to them._

Emil stepped off the stool, standing back onto his two feet, and bowed to the audience. He brought himself to pull his eyes from the stage floor upwards. Most faces he couldn't even begin to make out from the rest of the crowd, but he did make out several smiles. His heart twisted when he noticed their wild clapping, and he nearly cracked a sheepish grin once he noticed that several spectators were already on their feet and giving him a standing ovation.

He spotted the Kirkland family on the upper levels of the auditorium, right under the balcony seats, and his heart squeezed with euphoria when he saw Leon smile directly at him. Quick to move his feet towards the backstage area, he almost missed responding to the stage-hands' congratulations and compliments as he darted through the corridors to meet with his friend. However, one of the music instructors snatched the collar of his blazer and pulled him back. He turned his head, surprised, and met with Mr. Edelstein's steady gaze. "It's rude to disappear in the middle of the recital, Steilsson," he remarked coolly. "Whatever you have to do, it can wait, can't it?"

"Y-Yes sir," replied Emil as he dropped his eyes to the ground in shame.

He was surprised when he felt Mr. Edelstein's hand grasping his shoulder through the fabric of his suit. "You did well out there," the piano instructor complimented sternly. In other words, it was a huge achievement. Mr. Edelstein rarely ever praised someone's work, after all.

He waited until the rest of the concert finished and for the Dean of the Romulus Conservatory to say a few words—nearly a good hour—before leaving to find Leon. He had changed from his suit to some casual wear a long time ago, and when he exited the auditorium, he was surprised to find that the Kirkland family was without Leon—Mathias being his replacement.

Arthur and Marianne praised his playing, and when Emil asked where Leon had gone, Arthur and Marianne exchanged a small smile that made the platinum blond pianist feel as though the two adults were scheming something. (It felt eerily like the smile Mrs. Edelstein had given him the day he asked why she had chosen him to be part of the winter formal committee.) "Leon came just to see you play," Arthur informed the platinum blond shortly. "He was actually still at dance practice. Once you were done, he left to go back to his friends. He might still be there; he told us to leave ahead of him if we couldn't find him once we were done here."

"It's nearly nine o'clock though!" Emil protested, astounded that Leon and his friends could dance for so long. He hoped that they were taking proper breaks, but considering that they let Leon off for a bit, it was likely that they knew their limits as well. "I'm going to find him. The school is going to lock up once everyone gets out of here anyway."

"We'll be waiting in the parking lot then," Marianne notified Emil shortly. "Please make sure that he leaves. I'm afraid he hasn't even eaten dinner yet!"

"Okay, I'll try," Emil told the Frenchwoman with a nod of his head. He went back to the conservatory and headed towards the dance studio in the back. He pushed open the door, only to be bombarded by a Japanese pop ballad.

He watched, captivated, as Leon glided across the dance floor while holding a wireless microphone. His arms and legs popped along to the rhythm, rehearsed and well-practised, not missing a single step. His lips moved along to the lyrics as though he was singing, and although the lyrics didn't fall from his lips, Emil was simply astounded as it was.

It didn't help that the Hongkonger wore nothing but the bottoms of his gym uniform. In a corner, he had discarded his jersey and his t-shirt, the material a bit damp from his sweat, the beads of perspiration rolling down the front of his body against his built, lean muscles.

Catching sight of Emil, Leon stopped dancing. His cheeks seemed to redden, but the blond wasn't sure if it was because due to embarrassment for having been caught lip-synching to a song or due to overworking himself. (Emil was persuaded that it was the latter because Leon was usually confident in himself.) The song played to the end before it looped again, and the Hongkonger was quick to snatch his phone before the man began singing again—as though he didn't really want Emil to hear the lyrics (not like the Icelander understood anyway). Leon collapsed against the floor and grinned up at Emil rather sheepishly. "Concert ended?"

"Where's Mei and the others?" Emil asked instead.

"Ah, they left a long time ago," Leon replied. "I'm supposed to work on my part since I have a solo part here and there and nobody could cover for me then." He reached for his t-shirt and jersey, haphazardly throwing them on his person, before he pushed himself back onto his feet. He grabbed his bag and remarked, "I'm guessing this is my cue to leave then."

"Yeah," Emil replied half-heartedly.

"You did great out there, by the way," Leon told Emil blatantly.

"Thanks... but now I have to deal with the full brunt of the winter formal since Michelle's been going easy on me because of the recital."

Leon chuckled and mused, "Sounds tough. Glad I'm not a part of it."

"I told you to save me in class, you know?"

"By sacrificing myself? No thanks." The two of them exited the studio, and Leon found himself asking Emil, "Have you, like, found a date yet?"

"No, not really, why?" the platinum blond responded dubiously. He wasn't sure if this was leading into something good—for his health and sanity, that is. He eyed his friend with obvious scepticism, but Leon didn't seem at all bothered by Emil's lack of faith and trust in him.

"Not even sweet Lili?" Leon questioned. He didn't even sound the least bit curious.

"She's like a sister."

"Darling Michelle?"

"She has a boyfriend."

"Intelligent Lucille?"

"I don't want to be insulted the entire night."

"Beautiful Natalia?"

"She'd kill me."

Leon cracked a smile and mused, "Then I guess you're stuck with me the entire night."

Emil huffed indignantly and muttered, "Just say that to begin with, idiot." He wasn't sure if he was affronted by the fact that Leon wasn't even commenting on the blush that crept all the way up his neck, staining his cheeks and reaching the tip of his ears. The brunet was simply relishing his reaction and eating it up silently with his devious grin. "Mathias expects me to be home before midnight, you know?"

"Okay, got it, Cinderella."

* * *

Before he could fetch the door himself after hearing three uncharacteristically polite knocks, Mathias was all too eager to beat him there. The Dane hid his grin behind an over-dramatic scowl and cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt as though to loosen it. Emil rolled his eyes at the sight and waited rather impatiently for Mathias to open the doors. His uncle seemed quite into preparing himself for the overprotective dad role though.

"Mathias, it's just Leon," Emil remarked dryly. His words sounded hollow and empty, however, without a meaning to fill them. A part of him didn't believe in them. Beyond that door wasn't _just_ Leon, a part of his mind told him. It was Leon, his friend but not a friend.

"Tonight, he's not ' _just Leon_ '!" Mathias protested as though reading his nephew's mind. That was quickly proven otherwise when he added, "Tonight, he's your _date to the winter formal_ Leon!"

If you put it like that, the platinum blond hissed inwardly, _I'm_ going to get nervous, too!

Without further ado, feeling as though he's finally got into the role, Mathias pulled open the door. Unfortunately, he had waited too long, and Leon was just about to knock again. The momentum meant for the surface of the door ended up transferring to Mathias' jaw due to Leon's height, and the Hongkonger was quick to pull back, cursing in Cantonese, before apologising to Mathias for the accident. However, both Leon and Emil failed to hide the smile they shared.

"Ugh," groaned Mathias, "you've got quite the punch there, Leon." Honestly, he didn't expect any less from one of Yao Wang's students. "Just bring him back before midnight, okay?"

"Err, yeah, sure," Leon replied. He stretched his hand out for Emil to take, and the amused smile on his lips began to take on a gentler light. "Come on, Ice. Let's get moving. Mei would kill me if I'm late, and I know Lucille and Michelle would be on your case, too."

Emil nodded his head in response and reached out for Leon's hand. A shiver ran down his spine, tingling the inside of his body, when he felt their hands mould together perfectly. Leon swiftly adjusted the hold so that their fingers were intertwined. The two of them said their goodbyes to Mathias and marched down the lift. Once locked inside the confined space, Leon glanced over Emil and complimented, "You look nice." Of course, with Leon, he just had to add a bit of snark, "I thought you didn't want to come." In other words, he meant, "I didn't think you'd try."

Emil rolled his eyes. "Even I know to dress up for the occasion," muttered the blond. He was dressed in a black tailcoat unfastened over a dark grey pinstriped waistcoat, which, in turn, was buttoned over a white collared button shirt. Instead of wearing a neck-tie, Emil wore a red string bow (because Mathias had borrowed his one and only tie and forgotten to give it back). His attire was finished off with a pair of dark grey trousers and black lace-up riding boots that reached his knees (because Lukas had taken his Oxfords with him to his university dorms by accident and because Emil didn't feel like buying new ones). Emil spared Leon a glance as well and retorted, "You don't look too bad yourself."

Unlike Emil's more formal attire, Leon wore a black blazer over a black button shirt with red trousers that were fitted to his lithe legs. They were probably skinny jeans, Emil thought to himself, even if the fabric looked a bit different than typical denim. His red trousers were tucked into a pair of Doc Martens with a solid white body outlined in black and black laces. "You really don't look like you're going to a formal though."

"Trust me," Leon replied with a slight smirk on his lips, "there _will_ be people who are dressed more casually than me. At any rate, I'm a _dancer_. As far as anyone's concerned, I'm just, like, part of the entertainment."

Emil shrugged. "If you say so." At any rate, the blond wasn't going to be on the receiving end if someone was to nag Leon about his appearance. It was true that the Hongkonger didn't look bad though. The rock style suited him; it gave him and his attitude a bit of an edge visually.

When they reached the ground floor, Leon surprised him by saying, "I parked on the side of the road with the other cars because I didn't have a pass to use the garbage."

"You drive?" Emil blurted out uncertainly.

Leon chuckled quietly under his breath and replied, "All of Arthur's kids know how to drive—including me. Arthur said it'd be good to learn in case of, like, an emergency or something. Like, I just don't have a car because the need hasn't come up yet."

"Alfred has a car though," Emil pointed out.

"A pre-owned one that he, like, saved up all his money for ever since he was getting his permit," Leon replied. "Arthur's a bit adamant on the whole 'teach your kids responsibility' thing. Alfred only managed to buy one last summer because, like, Arthur indulged him a bit. He invested in a good four grand and bought a prepaid gas card while Alfred paid the rest."

Leon led him towards the streets where he had parked with the rest of the neighbourhood cars. Emil was surprised to see that it was a sleek black Mercedes Benz coupé waiting for the two of them. Leon unlocked the car doors and slipped inside first, and Emil—still a bit awestruck—followed suit, sliding into the passenger seat. "Isn't this a luxury car?" the blond inquired of his friend. "Where'd you get it?"

"Ah, this is Arthur's car. Like, he has more than enough money from working with spoilt divas all the time," Leon explained offhandedly as he powered on the engine with a press of a button. "He spends most of his money on our home though." Dropping his phone into one of the cup-holders in the centre, Emil noticed that the car's media interface was currently playing from Leon's music library in his phone automatically upon starting up the engine. It must be bluetooth or something, the blond concluded as he continued making his silent observations.

It was, indeed, a new car. It still had the smell of fresh leather and all that. Looking around, the Icelander couldn't help but admire the clean, crisp black interior as well. The seats had even glowed when they opened up the doors! "Arthur let me borrow his car for tonight," Leon continued explaining as he pulled out of the cramped parking spot, "because Alfred's, like, partying with his friends in a limousine, so Arthur's using Alfred's car today."

"What about Matthew?"

"He's babysitting Xiulan for me," Leon answered. "Says parties aren't his thing."

"I wish I could stay home," Emil muttered a bit enviously.

"Unfortunately, you and I are kinda obligated to attend," Leon commented. "You can, like, change the song, by the way. You know the password to my phone by now."

Emil rolled his eyes and, taking Leon's permission as a suggestion, picked up Leon's phone. He typed in the PIN code and pulled up a list of all the Hongkonger's songs. Although he couldn't read the title of some of the songs, he pressed on one song that had English words in his title, content with the subtle R&B tunes that poured from the surround sound system.

Recalling that his friend would be dancing again, Emil asked him, "Are you nervous?"

Leon gave a wry smile, his eyes still focused on the road ahead of him, and retorted, "Should I be?" Stopping at a red light, he stretched out his hand for Emil to take, and after shooting him a sceptical glance, the platinum blond brushed his fingers against Leon's palm. He recoiled when he felt Leon tremble, surprised. "Sometimes I think Mei asks the impossible from me, but I can't ever turn her down."

"Why?" Uncertainty crept into his voice, and Emil wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer. Mei was like a sister to Leon; she was his best friend, the hyperactive, female version of himself. It still didn't alleviate the unease he sometimes felt when he saw the two of them so close together though. At times, he thought that she would always be closer to Leon than he ever would be.

"Because she thinks—and everyone else thinks—that I can pull it off. I go on stage, and there's only two options for me," Leon withdrew his hand and replaced it on the steering wheel. He eased onto the gas pedal and accelerated gradually, bringing them a little bit closer to their destination. "First, I go on stage and fail. Maybe I miss a step. Maybe I fall on my face after doing a flip. Maybe I'm expected to rip my t-shirt in the middle of a song, but the fabric was tougher than I thought."

"What?"

"It's happened before—one of Mei's crazy fan-service ideas. Don't ask."

"Okay..."

"Anyway, the other option is to go on stage and pull off a miracle. It happens most of the time, fortunately, but sometimes I can't help but think that it's, like, a fluke or something."

Emil was quiet, unsure how to give his friend advice, before remarking, "But you go on stage anyway—because we're entertainers, right?"

Leon glanced briefly at his friend, and a smile crept onto his lips when he heard his words being used against him once again. "Yeah, we're entertainers."

"Just go up there and do what you can," Emil stated. "If you mess up, just play it off. You're _Leon_ , and you're pretty good at that. Look at your history tests for proof if you need any."

Leon laughed at that. After a blissful silence in which Leon pulled a few turns, they finally arrived at the ritzy hotel Lucille had booked. Once Leon had run the parking permit he had been given (technically, waived because of his performer privileges whereas normal students had to buy them for five dollars extra) by the security guard, they were allowed access to the car park. Pulling into an empty spot, Leon stopped the engine with a press of a button after he had parked a bit crookedly ("But, at least it's, like, still in the box," Leon reasoned). Once Leon locked up Arthur's new Mercedes, the two of them sauntered into the hotel.

Several of the senior students had reserved a suite to spend the night in the hotel while others headed straight into the ballroom. Leaning towards Emil's ear, Leon whispered teasingly, "Shall we book a room, too?"

Emil glared pointedly at Leon. "It's too expensive, and Mathias expects me back—just like how Marianne and Arthur are expecting you to be home, too."

"But, like, you still want to, huh?" Leon chimed.

"Leon, shut up."

"Yes, my love," the Hongkonger teased. Holding onto Emil's hand, Leon led the blond towards the ballroom, where Lucille and Lili were manning the ticket booth. The two boys presented them their tickets, and Lucille waved them away dismissively.

The first thought that crossed Emil's mind was that it was crowded. There were more people than he had expected to be present. Some of them stood off to the side, chatting and talking, while others were dancing in the centre of the ballroom. Several people were already seated at tables, eating and chatting, and a handful loitered around the buffet table set up in front of a large Christmas tree.

The second thought that crossed Emil's mind was that it was dark and loud. The lights were mostly dimmed, and strobe lights were dominant. The lighting nearly wasn't enough to discern of the glittery snowflakes hanging from the ceiling or the sparkling tinsel draped across the walls. They could barely making out the white and blue balloons decorating the entrance in an arc.

A DJ booth was set near the stage, and, much to his surprise, a student was manning it. Emil vaguely recognised him as one of Leon's friends—probably through extension. Mei seemed to get along with the Japanese boy the best—a Tsukomi Osaka or something who was dressed in a hoodie, jeans, and Converse high-tops. He wore a pair of headphones around his neck, which may have connected to the sound deck (but Emil couldn't tell for sure).

The music selected at the moment was some dubstep song that had most people getting down on the dance floor, and it soon changed to EDM. There were even people lined up to make a request or two. (At least now Emil understood why it was so cheap to hire a DJ—because they had hired a student rather than a professional.) Rather than a ballroom, they might as well have booked a nightclub and restricted access to the alcohol. For such a "formal," Emil found that he might have felt more comfortable in casual clothes suited for a regular outing rather than evening gowns and suits. He supposed it was because it was a school event that everyone was dressed up.

"Leon!"

Both Emil and Leon turned to the source of the sound, only to find Mei running towards them with Lien in tow. The Vietnamese girl seemed a bit uncomfortable with being dragged along, yet she made no effort to remove herself from Mei's clutches—probably because they were considered, more or less, to be close friends.

The two girls were dressed in matching outfits—a white button shirt with a black ribbon bow tied around their neck as well as black shorts and matching suspenders over a pair of sheer, black tights with black, heeled booties less than three centimetres in height. The two of them even had matching hairstyles—side ponytails with a small fedora clip. Behind them, Emil could spot Cheng and Kasem in coordinated attire, too. The two were dressed in a black blazer over a white button shirt with black neck-ties as well as a pair black trousers and black and white runners—most likely their dancing shoes.

Mei greeted Emil warmly with a bright smile, and Emil felt his stomach knot in guilt for never getting along with her—or trying to get along with her—when all she's only ever been kind to him. "Hey, Emil! So Leon wasn't joking when he said that he had a hot date tonight!" Mei chirped. Suddenly, Emil was grateful that the ballroom was so dark; she didn't need to see the blush her words had caused. Her grin only seemed to widen when he had subconsciously inched closer to Leon. Turning her focus back to her team-mate, she mentioned, "Okay, Tsukomi says that he's got the mic rigged when it's our turn. We won't have to worry about feedback or anything. Until then, we can chill or go over some parts if you guys are worried." Mei winked at the pretty boy pair though and added, "I wouldn't want to ruin your date though."

Leon rolled his eyes and retorted, "Isn't it, like, too late for you to worry about that? You're already here and intruding, Mei." He glanced over to the stage and saw that the entertainment hadn't started yet. The brunet then glanced at the time on his phone and, upon noticing that they would have to be on stage in about an hour and a half, said, "We can practise a few minutes before the _acapella_ club goes on stage if you guys are so concerned about it."

"It's just the acoustic part I'm worried about," Kasem remarked. "We managed to secure a cheap guitar nobody really minds us using for a prop, but I'm just worried we haven't practised enough with it."

"As long as you don't strike the strings by accident," Lien remarked, "I think you're good. We've practised plenty."

"Besides, you were perfectly fine during dress rehearsals yesterday," Cheng reminded. He nodded towards the dance floor and remarked, "Let's just dance and loosen up a bit. We need to get psyched up." He reached out for Mei's hand and led her to the dance floor while Kasem gestured for Lien as a sign of "ladies first," escorting her to the dance floor.

"Kasem sounds nervous," Emil commented.

"Yeah, it's the first time we're pulling off this kind of thing. It's easier to do in theory—singing and dancing."

"You're singing?"

"Not at all," Leon mused. "You'll see." Pulling Emil along, the brunet chirped, "Let's get something to eat. I'm seriously starving."

"As long as you don't regurgitate it later..."

"Ice, like, seriously, who do you think I am?" Leon retorted almost incredulously. "Besides, as Alfred said, think of this as an eighty dollar buffet, and we got in for free. Like, it would totally be a waste not to sample... well, everything, I guess."

The two of them finally arrived at the catering table, and Leon was eager to stack Emil's plate full of food for the two of them to share. Unlike the others who lingered there, once Leon had grabbed two cups of punch, the Hongkonger scouted for an empty table. He nodded towards his older brother when he caught sight of the American among his jock friends before settling at an empty table. The moment the two of them sat down, Mei retreated from the dance floor and slid right up to Leon, taking one of the two cups of punch. "Why, thank you!" she chirped, taking a good gulp of the drink. She glanced over to Leon and Emil with a curious gaze. "You're not going to dance?"

Emil shook his head and replied, "I don't know how to dance." Or rather, the blond thought sardonically, I don't dance at all.

Mei pouted. "What a shame! Leon, you should teach him!"

"Maybe twenty minutes after we finish eating," Leon remarked as he ended up taking a sip out of Emil's cup upon realising that Mei had drunk all of his punch. The Icelander narrowed his eyes at his supposed friend but said nothing—about stealing his drink and possibly sweeping him to the dance floor. The brunet asked of his Taiwanese friend, "Are you going to eat?"

"I can't," Mei replied with a pout. "I'm too nervous; I haven't really shaken off all my nerves yet—maybe later—like 'after we perform' later."

Emil glanced at her hands, both of which she had clasped on top of the table, and, upon closer inspection, noticed that she was shaking as well. Confident, bubbly Mei was just as nervous as he was before his recital. Confident, mischievous Leon was also nervous in a similar fashion. Cheerful, optimistic Kasem was afraid that he would miss his cue. Pleasant, amicable Cheng needed to loosen up before their performance. Emil was sure that even quiet, headstrong Lien wasn't without her nerves either. They were entertainers, and the moment they were on stage was what they lived for. Leon said it himself.

"You guys will be great," Emil found himself saying to Mei with a polite, courteous smile on his lips that lasted for only a few seconds.

Mei returned his smile openly and warmly. "Thank you, Emil!" She laughed and glanced over at the buffet table. "Maybe I _will_ get something to eat. The cupcakes look absolutely scrumptious! I'll be back!" She stood back up and waved to her friend. "Lien!" Together, the two matching girls marched towards the buffet table with Kasem and Cheng following shortly after the.

"This table has a good view of the stage," Leon commented. Emil stole a glimpse at the Hongkonger and found that, instead of staring at the stage, the brunet was staring directly at him. It was as if he was asking, "You'll be watching, right?"

"Yeah," Emil answered. The two of them quietly picked food off their plate, and the others soon joined them with more food. As a means of apology, Mei brought Emil a new cup of punch—seeing that Leon had drunk from his—and nearly an hour later, Lili and Lucille joined their group, keeping Emil company while Leon and his friends had to standby. Before he left, however, Leon leaned forward, invading Emil's personal space, and stared expectantly at the blond. "Wh-What?" Emil stammered.

"A good luck kiss. I want one."

Emil's eyes nearly budged out of their sockets. He glanced over their the audience. The rest of Leon's dance crew looked far too terribly amused, and while Lucille didn't look the least bit interested in their antics, Lili was blushing for Emil. "Wh-Why?" the Icelander blurted out incredulously.

"Because you're my date," Leon answered brusquely—as if that was a good enough reason.

"You're unbelievable!" Emil snapped, glaring pointedly at the brunet in a form of chastisement for his behaviour. He tried averting his eyes, staring at the floor, but when he realised that Leon was _not_ going to pull away, the platinum blond pouted slightly. In the blink of an eye, he pecked the corner of Leon's lips and went back to glaring at him.

"Ice, you totally missed."

"Shut up, idiot! Go away!"

" _Tsundere_."

"Don't curse at me!"

"It was a compliment," Leon chimed monotonously. He rejoined his friends, and the five of them marched towards the wing of the stage, lining up for when it was their turn to perform.

"Emil, you're gay?" Lili asked of the Icelander. "So you had a boyfriend..."

"He's not my boyfriend, and I'm not gay," Emil muttered. He never really had a preference for either gender; people as a whole could be annoying—not just men or not just women. "We're just... unfortunately close."

Lili smiled at him. "It's nice though, isn't it? To have someone be there for you?"

Emil glanced over at his friend, and he could barely see the head of perfect hair over the crowd. "I guess," replied the taller blond. "Your shift at the ticket booth is done?"

Lili nodded. "Lucille and I switched with a pair of upperclassmen."

"Oh, I see." Emil turned his attention back to the stage. At the front, they had five microphones lined up with stands wrapped in strips of icy blue, flexible glow-sticks like a luminescent coil. Originally, Michelle's idea was to buy LED microphone stands, but Lucille thought they were too expensive and wouldn't budge from her stance. The two of them managed to compromise with glow-sticks rather than LED lights with an eight hour lifespan. They were assuming that the _acapella_ group and the glee club could make do with at least five microphones as well. Nobody had protested, so, hopefully, tonight, things would progress as smoothly as Emil heard from last night's dress rehearsal.

Tsukomi Osaka, their hired DJ, also seemed to have taken upon himself the duty of the MC. He gladly introduced the school's acapella club, and a crowd of female predominant students shuffled onto the stage. They divided themselves into their respective vocal groups—from sopranos to basses—in front of the microphones. As one harmonised choir, they began to sing to some chart-topping hit, a pop song Emil's never heard, and gathered quite the cheerful audience in support of their chosen song.

Although Emil's never heard the song, he could consider it nicely sung, but the blond has never really thought of much for vocal groups. At best, the performance was okay, but everyone else around him seemed to think otherwise and was applauding wildly. The glee club had done better, performing a musical number of sorts, complete with a bit of acting. Their energy seemed to have seeped into the crowd, and a number of students were clapping along to the rhythm, cheering when they ended their little act. The stage-hands climbed onto the surface, bringing the microphone stands towards the back of the stage so that, most likely, they wouldn't get in the way of the dancers.

When Tsukomi introduced the next act, Emil was a bit surprised. "And now!" he boomed into the microphone, "Taking the Asian side of YouTube and all of the Japanese streaming sites by storm, our very own Far East 5!" Leon's never mentioned uploading their dances, but, then again, Leon wasn't the kind of person who would boast of his own achievements. Like Emil, he kept to himself in a surprisingly humble manner despite appearances.

Upbeat, electronic pop music blared through the speakers, and Emil raised his head when he caught sight of five individuals stepping onto the stage in an orderly fashion in front of each microphone. Surely, they weren't going to sing, were they? Emil's curiosity was a bit piqued at the sight. They began to clap to the beat, and the crowd began to clap with them.

In a move that surprised him, Kasem took the microphone and began to rap into it—but it certainly didn't sound like Kasem's voice—as they shifted to the front. No, he wasn't rapping. He was _pretending_ to rap. Emil's mind slowly began to make sense of what he was seeing in front of him. They were dancing and "singing," just as Leon had said.

It was clear now. This was why Mei was talking about rigging their microphones so that they wouldn't get feedback. Where everyone else was already singing, these five dancers decided to be consistent with the use of microphones and made use of them as props—dancing and having fun lip-synching at the same time.

Kasem and Cheng took the roles of the two rappers in the boy band with as much charisma as an actual star would have. They were acting the part of a Korean boy band, and that had their audience laughing in good cheer and amusement—especially when the girls began to "sing" as well. The crowd was even more energised when Leon, taking the role of the lead dancer, added more stunts to the original choreography—back-flips and handstands from what Emil's gathered from those knowledgeable in the crowd.

Just as the stage blacked out, the audience began to roar with the same amount of energy present in the dance crew's performance, but sudden an acoustic guitar played in the background. The dim lighting revealed five silhouettes, four of which were dancing with the microphone stands while the one in the centre was "playing guitar," blocking the light of the centre-most stand. The lights flashed back on when the acoustic instrumental was about to end, and Kasem smashed the guitar against the stage floor. He kicked the instrument forward, and a stage-hand caught the prop just in time before it shattered into a million smithereens.

The dance slowed down when the song began to fade out, but the applause hadn't decreased either. It only seemed to grow louder. The five of them stepped down from the stage when the stage-hands began to prepare for the next act. On the way down, Tsukomi seemed to congratulate them in five-hands and handshakes. Leon slipped into the seat beside Emil, sighing as though to release the last of his energy, and glanced over at his friend with a wry smirk. "You didn't bring me anything to drink?" the brunet asked teasingly.

"Get it yourself, idiot," Emil retorted. Huffing, he said reluctantly, "You looked cool up there."

"Thanks, Ice." The two of them made eye contact, and for a moment, it just seemed to be a conservation strictly between the two of them—with no others present. "Really, thanks."

"You're still nervous?"

"We were the only ones up there doing something in a different language," Leon explained. "Sometimes I wonder if it'll be well-received, but then I remember that this is a bit of a liberal arts school. People here are pretty open minded."

"I was surprised you were the only one who didn't 'sing' as much up there," Emil commented.

"Well, I _did_ do most of the dancing." Leon grinned back mischievously at his platinum blond friend. "Don't worry about it. We're in charge of the finale, too."

"I hope there aren't any fireworks involved."

"Emil, you insult my intelligence," Leon remarked sarcastically. "Even I know that I can't afford to, like, pay for reparations to a hotel ballroom."

"That's... not the problem here." Emil sighed. "Do you want more food?"

"Sure."

The rest of the night was spent chatting with Michelle and her date, Lili, Lucille, and Leon's friends. Occasionally, there were people who dropped by to congratulate the dancers on a job well done. It was a refreshing change of pace compared to everyone who'd been singing. Alfred had dropped by their table to pat his youngest brother on the back. Occasionally, the dancers would slip to the centre of the ballroom to do what they do best. At one point, Emil thought he saw Mei break out a pirouette or two on the dance floor with Kasem as her partner. Cheng had even been break-dancing to dubstep at one point, gathering much attention, until Yong-Soo had requested a Korean one-hit wonder and got everyone dancing to a catchy pop song.

Leon was firmly planted in his seat though; he never left Emil's side like, as Michelle had teased them, a proper date. There was a moment Leon had dragged Emil out of his seat once though in attempt to get the platinum blond to dance, but that had the Icelander withdraw even more into his shell. Instead, they had ended up getting more food and punch. When Michelle left with her date to meet with his friends and when Lili had to leave to appease to her overprotective brother, Lucille went back to man the ticket booth, and Leon's friends were all gathered on the dance floor trying to mix jazz dance moves to EDM for fun.

"Sorry."

The apology took Leon by surprise. "For what?" asked the Hongkonger.

"I'm not really making this fun for you, am I?" Emil inquired, muttering under his breath. "Because... I don't want to dance, so..."

"I know you don't," Leon replied smoothly. "Like, honestly, it doesn't matter to me whether you dance or not because I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I mean, if eating and talking makes you happy, then, like, I'll indulge you." He smiled briefly at Emil and remarked, "Besides, we eat and talk all the time, don't we?"

"Yeah, but there's always better background music playing," Emil retorted. This made Leon laugh a bit, but the brunet still nodded in agreement. He glanced at the time on the screen of his phone and noticed that it was about time for him to get back on stage. Looking over towards the dance floor, he noticed that Mei was waving for him to get off his ass. Seeing that Leon was getting up to leave, Emil asked, "It's time for the finale?"

"Yeah. Sorry to leave you alone."

"No, it's fine. You have to go on stage anyway." The blond checked the time on his iPhone and remarked, "As long as you don't ditch me later, I'm fine. You're my ride home, anyway."

"You're so hopeless without me, Ice."

"I'd be absolutely and utterly lost without you," Emil remarked sarcastically. He waved Leon away from the table and snapped, "Go before Mei yells at you."

Leon shrugged and started towards his dance crew, and the five of them shuffled back towards the wing of the dais on standby. Tsukomi riled up the crowd, announcing that it was almost midnight, and promptly introduced the final act of the night. When the audience realised it was their favourite dancers, they cheered even louder. Astonishment took over Emil when he saw Leon reach out for the one and only microphone on stage—leftover from the band's performance—and spoke into it, "So, like, good evening, World Academy!" Emil stifled his laughter. Despite the energy he tried putting into his voice, Leon still spoke rather monotonously. "As a request from our wonderful Winter Formal Committee, we were, like, asked to bring the mood down a bit. I guess you could just grab a partner or stand awkwardly to the side—whatever floats your boat—so, yeah. We'll be performing a Japanese pop ballad; we hope you enjoy it."

Leon took the microphone and stepped back into the cluster, and Emil figured that he would be dancing with it as a prop like in their earlier act. A stage-hand took the microphone stand from the front and set it to the side where nobody would trip over it, and a piano began to play over the speakers. After the first measure, their cluster broke apart, and just as Mei and Lien began to dance a step behind Leon with Kasem and Cheng flanking them in the rear, Leon's melodic voice floated throughout the entire ballroom as his body moved along with his friends in the back.

He's singing.

That was all Emil could comprehend. It was the same song Emil had caught Leon dancing and lip-synching after his recital in the dance studio, but this time he really was singing to the instrumental. He wasn't just lip-synching; he was memorising the lyrics and the foreign Japanese syllables. That was why he was practising even more than usual.

Emil wasn't the only one captivated either. All eyes were trained on Leon, who began to step away from his friends while they were still dancing towards the end of the song, and though he was still moving along to the beat and rhythm of the song, his singing voice seemed to become more sorrowful. His voice glided smoothly in levels that made it difficult to fathom that he was so deadpan moments ago. His singing was so moving that people forgot that this was the slow dance and were only watching Leon. Several others were even recording the entire song—some with the intention of uploading it on YouTube—as though they were the ones who had discovered such a rare gem—maybe even a diamond in the rough.

Leon really was star material.

The realisation struck Emil hard. If he was discovered, Leon would be pulled away from him, and Emil, who had no wish for stardom, could hardly chase after him.

When the song ended with the last two words of the lyrics ("... _say goodbye_ "), Emil could hardly snap out of his daze. Even the rest of the audience had forgotten to clap, but when they recovered, a deafening roar overtook the entire ballroom. When Leon handed off the microphone to a stage-hand and leapt off the stage, he was swallowed by a crowd of people praising him. Jostling his way out of the throng of people, he finally reached Emil and grabbed the Icelander by his hand.

"Shit, Mathias is going to, like, kill me," Leon cursed. "I was supposed to bring you back before midnight!" The two of them—well, Leon mostly—bid goodbye to all their friends and all but threw Emil into Arthur's Mercedes. The Hongkonger waited for Emil to buckle his seatbelt as patiently as he could before he pulled out of the parking slot and drove out of the car park.

The same Japanese song from before played on the stereo, and Emil took note of the artist's name and the title of the song so that he could Google search for the translation later. A part of him fancied the thought that Leon sang even better than the original artist, but that could have been his bias. "Did you have voice training?" Emil asked Leon.

"Like, what the hell is that?" Leon replied.

"Training for... your voice," Emil explained lamely. "Like... voice lessons to improve singing."

"I thought all you have to do to sing is just, like, open your mouth and sing," the Hongkonger remarked. He shrugged. "Marianne was an opera singer though, and Arthur used to sing for his band. He said my mum was a singer, too."

Emil would have said that it was in his blood, but he knew that genetics didn't quite work that way.

Later that night, after Mathias laughing about how he knew that they would end up being late anyway, Emil regretted googling the lyrics to the song Leon had sung. The translation rang clearly in his head, echoing like a dying resonance within a shadowy cave, and haunted him for the rest of the night. It was a song of parting, of lovers leaving each other and saying goodbye, of breaking up and missing each other, yet both of them are still smiling.

Emil couldn't even imagine such a thing ever being possible—at least not with him and Leon.

* * *

 **A/N:** Yamashita Tomohisa (Yamapi) is a popular Japanese idol, and Big Bang is a Korean boy band. The choreography I envisioned was based off a live performance in Yamashita Tomohisa's case and off a practice video of Big Bang's. Additionally, Emil's interpretation of Yamashita Tomohisa's song, "Loveless," is based on my translation and understanding, but I won't put either romanised or translated lyrics here.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Christmas Eve**

"This is Yamashita Tomohisa's song?" mused a handsome auburn haired man from the back seat of a luxury car. His dark brown—nearly crimson in hue—eyes glimpsed curiously at the woman manning the steering wheel while he was, evidently, preoccupied with scouring through YouTube videos. "Sakura, you recognise this song, don't you?"

"Yes," replied his manager from the driver's seat. She was a young woman with dark brown hair cut into a cutely styled bob-cut with gentle brown eyes. For the last three years, while he was based in Japan rather than in Taiwan at the Honda Agency, she had been contracted to him. Their relationship was clearly professional compared to how previous female managers tried to come onto him in the past, and he admired her for it. "This boy sings it quite nicely."

"His dancing isn't bad either," the singer mentioned. "Honestly, he blows half the competition we've seen today out of the water. I have half a mind to look for this boy instead of sitting through another day of this audition."

"You can't do that, sir," the Japanese woman admonished. "That wouldn't be fair to the boys who've applied and made it this far."

"It's not like I promised to take one of them personally under my wing," reasoned the singer. "I told the talent scouts and producers that I would sit in and help them judge, but I've yet to see someone I like." He glanced over to the boy in the focus of the camera. "Besides, he looks familiar."

"Does he now, sir?"

"Yes, he does," the singer murmured under his breath. "He kind of reminds me of my older sister... but I suppose you don't know who she is, do you, Sakura? You're young, but I don't suppose you're too young not to have known whom she was."

"I was not aware that you had siblings, sir."

"Well, she's actually my cousin through my father's side, and her shitty old man made sure of the fact that her name wasn't associated with his," the singer explained shortly. "He nearly disowned me using his authority as the head of the family, too, when I made my début at sixteen years old in Taiwan. Fortunately, he couldn't do anything because my father was his very much successful younger brother who was on my side. Wang Chun-Yan—have you heard of her? Well, I suppose she's more or less known as Li Chun-Yan, too."

"Ah, China's pop princess," the Japanese manager recalled shortly. "She married the pianist and composer, Li Xiao-Fan, and the two of them had a son. Unfortunately, the couple was reported to have died in a car accident. The whereabouts of their son is currently unknown."

"Her father hardly shed a tear over her death," the singer recalled, "but he probably cared. With the loss of his only daughter and child, he couldn't afford to estrange the rest of his family as well. He'd be a sad, lonely old man if he did. I wonder where he is—my cute little nephew, Li Xiao Chun."

"Wang-san, we've arrived at the music hall," Sakura announced.

"Say, Sakura, after this, we're supposed to go to New York, right?"

"Yes, Wang-san, your final album before your surgery is being produced there by an Arthur Kirkland," his manager reminded him shortly.

Arthur Kirkland—the name didn't escape him. He was an Englishman and a musician—one who dabbled in punk music and activist movements—who had retired into a more quiet life for the sake of his family. It was a shock to the entire music world when he had announced his marriage with the French soprano Marianne Bonnefoy, and their relationship was considered the greatest mismatch ever—second only to his relationship with Chinese pop star, Wang Chun-Yan. Tai-Yang has only met him once, and it was the only time Chun-Yan had brought him home to meet her family. Ever since then, Wang Zhuo had chased him away from his daughter, or, rather, his daughter had left the Briton before any harm could befall either of them.

He was the man she trusted the most who was second to only her husband. When Tai-Yang had tried to adopt Xiao Chun after their accident, it came as no surprise that his custody fell to his godfather rather than the uncle he's only seen once or twice in his entire life.

"Do you believe in fate, Sakura?"

"Not really, Wang-san," replied the young woman as she helped him out of the car. "I've managed to get where I am because of my own abilities; fate has very little to do with it."

"You _are_ awfully strong," Tai-Yang mused as he stepped out of the car. "Opening the car door should be the gentleman's job."

"Not when the 'gentleman' collapsed after his last concert," she protested.

He chuckled under his breath and walked silently beside his manager. The only comment he made was simply, "Well, I believe fate has brought us all together." There was much he had to discuss with Arthur Kirkland, after all, especially regarding a certain "Leon."

* * *

"Would you stop taking pictures already? It's so embarrassing!" Emil protested as he tried snatching Lukas' phone from his hands.

"Not a chance! This is your _first date_ , little brother!"

Leon watched amusedly as Lukas easily held the phone out of the range of Emil's arm span using the few centimetres he had over his younger brother as an advantage. The Norwegian shared a little smirk together with his brother's Hongkongese "not boyfriend" before tossing the phone over to Mathias, who had just stepped out of his master bedroom. The Dane quickly caught onto the game of monkey in the middle and, after giving Lukas a look that said he wasn't going to buy his oldest nephew a new phone if anything happened to this one (considering that he had just bought Emil one), tossed the iPhone over to Leon. Emil had pivoted on his heels to glare at his supposed friend, and just as he was about to march over to the brunet to demand him to delete the pictures, Leon tossed the phone back to Mathias, who caught it easily.

Knowing that this charade would continue forever if he didn't give up, Emil groaned, nearly ripping his hair out of his head, before he sulked towards Leon and grabbed his hand, dragging the Hongkonger out of the apartment.

"I can't believe you'd humour my brother and Mathias!" Emil griped as the two of them locked themselves within the lift, heading down towards the ground floor. The Icelander crossed his arms across his chest, dressed in a brown parka with a hood lined with white fur. Underneath, he wore a beige pullover sweater over an ivory white button shirt and a pair of light grey jeans with his usual pair of white lace-up boots. A pair of earmuffs lined with white fur was meant to keep his ears from freezing in the New York winter climate. Although it still wasn't as cold as Iceland in his opinion, it was cold enough to warrant Lukas and Mathias' worry.

On the other hand, Leon seemed to have trouble keeping up his usual coolness in this cold weather. There was a bit of redness staining his fairly tanned cheeks, and his hands were firmly tucked into the pockets of his heathered dark grey double-breasted peacoat. He wore a pair of tartan plaid jeans with black leather combat boots, and he also seemed to bury half of his face into the black knit scarf around his neck. "Why not?" Leon retorted calmly. He glanced over at his "date" and remarked, "Your brother's right, you know? You _do_ look cute. Winter clothes suit you the best."

Emil huffed indignantly and muttered, "I don't understand how you managed to win him over."

The two of them had only met once before then. Once, Emil had dropped by Leon's workplace to buy coffee for Mathias and Lukas, and, at Leon's insistence, he had gotten another coffee for himself as well at a discounted rate. The Hongkonger had left his workplace after making Emil's order since he was done for the day and walked home the blond with a milk tea of his own. ("Free drinks are a privilege for working there," Leon had tried to explain to Emil.)

It was then that he was invited into Mathias' apartment instead by Lukas, who had opened the door in place of Emil unlocking it. Lukas had decided to get some fresh air, having been in the same room with Mathias for too long but, upon noticing that his brother had a guest, acted against his previous decision to weasel his way into Emil's non-existent, as the younger brother had insisted, relationship with Leon. Lukas was known for being overprotective and babying his brother in the place of his parents, so Emil was certain that his Norwegian sibling would ruin things between him and Leon considering that their friendship was a questionable little thing as well.

Unfortunately, somehow Leon and Lukas had combined forces to tease and humiliate the Icelandic blond haired, amethyst eyed boy. Lukas, who probably didn't even have a best friend, had managed to click so easily with Leon over their one similarity.

"I called him ' _daaih lóu_ ,'" Leon explained. When he saw that Emil was confused, he clarified, "It means 'elder brother' in Cantonese."

Emil's eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets. "You _didn't_ ," the blond murmured. Lukas has been trying to get Emil to call him "older brother" ever since the latter's been, as the Norwegian had put it, "trying to grow up."

"Well, you could also translate it to 'respectful or honourable older brother,'" Leon mentioned shortly, "since it's not as informal or casual as ' _gòhgō_ ' or anything."

Rolling his eyes, the platinum blond commented, "You're unbelievable." He didn't even want to remember how Lukas had, in turn, called Leon his brother-in-law. Emil was only sixteen, but Lukas was already marrying him off to some kid he's only just met—one who simply addressed him as an older brother!

"I think in most Asian countries, like, we call everyone our brother or sister. If they're older than us, then they're an aunt or an uncle. If they're way older than us, then, like, we call them grandmother or grandfather," Leon reasoned. He shrugged and remarked, "I don't see what the big deal is."

"How many years have you lived in America?" Emil muttered under his breath as the two of them strolled out of the lift and out of the apartment complex. He supposed that it didn't matter if Leon's stuck around Chinatown for too long and interacted with Cantonese-speaking natives; he's stuck around long enough to know that westerners simply didn't call _everyone_ a brother or sister. He must have picked up on the fact that Lukas wanted Emil to call him... "You knew, didn't you?"

"Like, it's kind of hard not to know," Leon retorted teasingly. "Lately, when we're on the phone and you want him to do a solid, like, he'll always tell you to call him 'big brother' in Norwegian or Icelandic or something. I mean, seriously, it's not that hard to tell if you listen carefully." The Hongkonger figured it'd be a good way to get on the overprotective older brother's good side; the best part was that, unlike Emil, he had no qualms with calling anyone "big brother." He'll even call Alfred and Matthew " _a gō_ " or " _gòhgō_ "when he's in a good mood, and Alfred would explain it to his friends as Leon calling him "big bro." Noticing that Emil shot him a look of disbelief, Leon shrugged and commented, "I don't really see the problem."

"Isn't it embarrassing?"

"Ice, did you not get that I call strangers as 'older brother' or 'younger brother' as well?"

"Culture shock, I guess." Emil shrugged casually and then asked, "So where are we going?"

"I told you that I'd take you to try hot pot before, didn't I?" Leon retorted. "Lien and Mei picked out a good restaurant, so we're going to head there to celebrate the end of your first semester here in America."

"You remembered?"

"I keep my promises."

A mixture of emotions overwhelmed Emil from being touched to embarrassed to a little irritation (because he thought that, since Leon had called it a "date," it would be the two of them) to shame and remorse over his previous thoughts. His friends—even if through extension of Leon—had thought of him and were trying to get him comfortable with New York... even if it was just Chinatown so far. At this point, Emil was certain that he was accepted as one of the Asians despite his more than obvious heritage, but, of course, he really didn't mind. He enjoyed getting to know them a little bit more; the same goes with their culture since he didn't really have that kind of experience in Iceland.

"They'll have their little party, and then we'll, like, sneak away from them, okay?" Leon teased, giving Emil a quick wink that the Icelander would have missed if he wasn't looking.

The blond nodded shyly in response, still a little hesitant to admit that, yes, this probably was a date—just like the times Leon had taken him out to eat with just the two of them and the time that he had been escorted to the winter formal by the brunet.

Upon arriving in Chinatown, Leon pulled up the address Mei had sent him on his phone and googled it. The two boys walked silently, glancing occasionally at the map, and navigated quietly to their destination. By the time they had arrived, Mei, Lien, and Cheng were already seated at a table, and following them shortly after was Kasem. The newly arrived joined their friends at the remaining three seats. It was a bit cluttered, but that was to be expected considering that they were one of the biggest parties there. There were mostly groups of threes or fours, several tables of five and six, and even one with nine persons. As suspected, most people were Asian in heritage, and Emil was one of the handful of people who were of a different ethnicity.

"It's around thirty dollars for two hours here—unlimited food and drinks*," Mei informed shortly. "I ordered green tea for all of us. Is that okay?"

Emil gave a nod as Kasem replied affirmatively. Leon looked more preoccupied with sending a quick text message to someone indiscreetly as he asked, "Did you choose the broth yet?"

"We're doing the combo pot. There's a mild beef one and a medium-spicy kimchi one," Lien answered. She gave Emil a courteous smile—mostly pleasant and polite—as she mentioned, "Congratulations on completing your first semester in America."

"Thank you," Emil replied just as politely with probably a similar, if not the same, smile on his lips.

"That's right!" Mei beamed at him. "How was it? Was it tough?"

"It wasn't that bad," Emil admitted. "Learning United States history was a different experience, of course. I only had a bit of trouble in the English class as well, so Leon's always had to help me."

"It helps that Arthur's an Englishman," Leon teased as he shoved his phone into his back-pocket. "He's had to help all of us at one point."

The Icelander's eyes widened momentarily in surprise as he glanced around the table. "Really? You sound fluent though," Emil blurted out in astonishment. Not to mention, there wasn't really much of an accent when either of them spoke; it was more practised and subtle than Emil's own English.

"Well, we _are_ international students," Kasem reminded amiably. "We might have been around longer than you, but that doesn't really vouch for our English skills when we first came here. I think Lien and I struggled the most since Mei and Cheng already attended an international school in Taiwan and Macau."

"My English was only classroom understanding though," Mei admitted sheepishly. "Cheng and I were dependent on each other and some of the Chinese kids until we met Leon in middle school. We lost some of superficial friends ever since. Emil already sounds really used to English though."

"At least you had some knowledge of English when you came here," Lien pointed out amicably. "Where I lived, you hardly ever used English at all. I wish I had that advantage."

Emil flushed, caught unawares that he really did have it a bit better than his friends, and asked, "You don't mind my accent?"

Everyone cracked a smile at him, warm and accepting, except for Leon, who rolled his eyes. "You're not that bright sometimes, are you, Ice?" Leon retorted in his usual deadpan. He reached out and flicked Emil in the forehead in one fluid motion before the latter could even blink. Emil recoiled with a hiss, and Leon snapped, "They're your friends. Like, seriously, they don't care about your accent; if anything, it's really cute."

Everyone but Emil noticed the third person use and smiled weakly. He wondered where exactly that placed the two of them then since he did realise—albeit belatedly—that Leon and he were closer than any of the others. Leon never kissed or hugged or held hands with any other of his friends; he didn't cuddle with them, didn't nuzzle them, didn't snuggle up to them, or anything. His affections seemed to be reserved only for Emil, and in a way that made him feel a bit special.

He could feel his hopes soaring, but there was a limit they couldn't pass. It was a boundary line that they always approached and never breached. Crossing the line would mean to end their friendship and start something new, but the two of them have been much too comfortable to cross into the unknown. However, recently, Emil's found himself wondering...

Unfortunately, he seemed to wonder for too long.

"Look, Leon, you've hurt his feelings!" Mei admonished.

That snapped Emil back to reality. He shot a smile at Mei and assured her that nothing was wrong. Leon was right, after all, and he apologised for the alarm. "I was just thinking," confessed the blond.

"You don't have to apologise!" Mei protested. "You did nothing wrong!"

"She's right, you know," Leon remarked. "Everyone knows that you tend to get lost in your thoughts."

"I don't want to hear that from _you_ ," Emil retorted.

The blond watched curiously as a server approached, saying something in Chinese, and began to set up their pot. Unlike the hot soup restaurant where Leon had brought him, the pot they had placed on the gas stove was an actual stewing pot with its contents separated by a metal divider. He had managed to catch the waiter pointing to the different soups, saying "beef" on one side and "kimchi" on the other. He set the stove to the highest setting before leaving and coming back with plates of meats, seafood, vegetables, and noodles.

Cheng and Leon immediately took one plate each and began dividing the ingredients aside from the noodles into the soups by their chopsticks instead of the provided tongs. "It's faster," Leon had explained upon noticing Emil's baffled expression. Not only that, but there was also the fact that they had plenty of chopsticks to use at their disposal, considering that there was an entire container of them on the other side of the table. Mei had probably passed them around the table before the rest of the group had arrived.

Confirming Emil's earlier suppositions, Leon began to point out the different soups to Emil, and the Icelander resolved to stay away from the spicier soups with or without confirmation from the others that it wasn't as spicy as they had thought. (A part of Emil told him not to believe his friends though in consideration that they had probably gotten used to spices.)

"This is salmon, right?" Leon asked as he dropped a piece of fish into the kimchi soup.

"Yeah," confirmed Mei.

Leon began to list the different ingredients one by one to Emil as he dropped them into the soup. There was salmon, pieces of squid and octopus, fish balls and meatballs which, as explained to Emil, were pounded fish and beef respectively, artificial crab, shrimp, and thinly sliced beef. The vegetables mostly consisted of lettuce and cabbage as well as enoki mushrooms. The noodles were passed around the table, one was a selection of white noodles and the other yellow in colour. Most of their friends were scooping the white noodles, with the exception of Mei and Kasem.

"It's rice vermicelli and regular vermicelli," Leon had explained to Emil when he had received the plate. "Like, the second one tastes like ramen if you eat it with the soup, but the rice one is most commonly eaten with soup."

Emil served himself a bit of the rice noodles in his small bowl that easily fit in the palm of his left hand after curiously sampling a strand of each vermicelli. Like the others, he waited until later to pour in the soup. Steam lifted from the pot and wafted over towards the side facing the entrance due to the constantly opening and closing door, carrying with it the aroma of their soup. While the six of them began to wait for their ingredients to cook, Mei was quick to chirp, "Merry Christmas, everyone!"

Cheng turned his attention to Emil and stated, "I hope we're not taking away too much of your time to spend with your family. Western cultures _do_ celebrate Christmas differently."

"More devotedly, you mean," Leon pointed out with a wry twist of his lips—what could be passable between a smirk and a grin.

"It's fine as long as I'm back by six," Emil informed shortly with a curious glance around the table. "My uncle says that's when we're having our 'family dinner,' but it's really just three of us—him, my brother, and me. I think tomorrow his cousin's family is visiting from Jamestown. Probably."

"That's still more family oriented than what we do," Kasem responded amicably.

"How do you guys celebrate then?" the blond inquired.

"Christmas is a public holiday in Macau and Hong Kong," Cheng explained, "but not on mainland China. It's mostly the few Christians who celebrate it, but other people join in because of the colourful festivities."

Leon nodded in agreement. "Like, honestly, the one thing I remember about Christmas in Hong Kong before I was adopted," or maybe the only thing I _do_ remember, the brunet thought wryly, "was 'Winterfest.' It's basically an annual party that involves all the shops, theme parks, and attractions in Hong Kong. The areas around Victoria Harbour were—or, like, 'are,' I guess—usually decked out with lights, too—probably even the entire city. There were fireworks, too."

Mei giggled and teased, "Of course you'd remember the fireworks."

"How about Taiwan?" Cheng asked before Leon and Mei could bicker like siblings.

"It's not an official holiday," Mei chirped, "but that doesn't really stop people from celebrating. It's more popular than in mainland China. There's Christmas merchandise out in the shops, and shop employees sometimes wear Santa hats for the season, too. We also have Christmas cakes." Turning to Emil, she explained, "It's actually a sponge cake typically decorated with strawberries and whipped cream! Originally, it was a Japanese thing though." She turned to Emil and grinned widely, almost deviously, and asked, "Did you know that Christmas Eve is a couples' holiday in Japan? It's more of a romantic thing than a family celebration—kind of like Valentine's Day."

Emil blinked curiously. "Really?"

"Yeah, really!" Mei chimed. "Couples exchange presents, eat romantic meals together, and go look at lights! It's not a national holiday there either though, so high school students like us sometimes have to wait until after school."

"It's the same with Vietnam, actually," Lien mused. "Christmas Eve is celebrated more than Christmas day, but people usually go out in the streets and enjoy the decorations. I think some of the Christians or Catholics go to Midnight Mass." She nudged Kasem as though to ask, "What about you?"

"It's not a national holiday in Thailand either," Kasem explained, "and only a minority of people are Christian. Christmas decorations are usually seen in the city or tourist areas like Bangkok though."

"We were a little reluctant to pull you away on Christmas Eve," Cheng confessed, wearing his usual smile, "but this was probably the only day Leon and Mei got off from work."

Emil glanced over at Leon, who spared him a subtle smile full of sheepishness succinctly. The brunet shrugged casually as though to act dismissively and remarked, "Sifu's a miser, but he's not that heartless to keep us from celebrating with our friends." Before anyone could touch on that subject, Leon pointed to the boiling pot with his chopsticks and said, "Cheng, could you turn the stove to a simmer? It should be ready."

He grabbed the ladle and experimentally scooped a spoonful of soup and seafood, pouring it into his bowl. He passed it to Emil, who did the same and ended up getting more vegetables than his friend, and while the ladle was going around the table, Cheng called out to the server in Mandarin to bring them another set of ingredients. Emil used the Chinese soup spoon to pick up some of the broth to test it on his palate.

"How is it?" Leon asked.

"It's good," Emil confessed almost sheepishly. "Like you said, I should trust you when it comes to meals."

"Try the fish next," Leon suggested. "It's not that bad; neither is the beef."

Mei watched their interactions with a smile. Leaning towards Lien, she couldn't help but whisper, "Isn't that nice? They really suit each other." Naturally, nobody else could hear their exchange. However, Leon did shoot her a weary glance when she stared at him knowingly.

While they were waiting for their next round of ingredients to cook, Kasem resumed their earlier conversation about Christmas. "So how do you celebrate Christmas in Iceland, Emil?" inquired the bespectacled boy as he finished the rest of his noodles. Lien handed him the plate after he nudged her lightly. He helped himself to a bit of the vermicelli before giving his full attention to Emil.

The blond noticed that everyone else seemed to follow his example as well, and he realised that, being from a separate culture where Christmas is just another festival rather than an actual holiday, they were genuinely curious. "Well," Emil began awkwardly, "Christmas is kind of a part of a holiday called _Jól_ , which means 'Yule' in Icelandic." He hurriedly tacked on the explanation when he had subconsciously reverted back to his first language. "Yesterday was _Þorláksmessa_ , Saint Thorlakur's Day, which is the day Iceland's patron saint died. We eat _skata_ and decorate the Christmas tree.

"Today is _Aðfangadagur_ , and celebrations start at six in the evening. Children usually open their Christmas presents after dinner. _Jóladagur_ is Christmas day, and we usually have meals with the extended family and eat _Hangikjöt_ —roasted lamb, I think? The day after is _Annar Jóladagur_ , which I think translates into 'another Christmas day.'"

"Is it like Boxing Day?" Leon asked curiously.

"Boxing day?" Mei interrupted curiously. She doubted the martial art had anything to do with it though.

"It's the day after Christmas," Leon answered shortly.

"You sure know a lot," Mei mused.

"I'm from Hong Kong. It was a British colony until the late nineties, and I live with a Briton," Leon reasoned. "Arthur, like, celebrated Boxing Day, too, when he took us to England once, but it's like a bank holiday in the UK. Most people go shopping or watch football and rugby matches."

"It's a little different in Iceland," Emil commented with a bit of interest. "On _Annar Jóladagur_ , you can go visit friends and family. It's basically Christmas extended—as suggested by the name, probably." He shrugged again and continued with his little explanation. "There's also _Gamlárskvöld_ and _Nýársdagur_ , which are New Year's Eve and New Year's. _Þrettándinn_ is Twelfth Night, which occurs on the sixth of January, and the last day of _Jól_ , which can be celebrated by bonfires and dancing."

"I thought you didn't dance," Leon teased.

"And I don't," Emil mumbled, elbowing his friend in the ribs. Cheng grabbed the ladle this time and began to pass it around the table.

"It does sound fun though," Kasem admitted.

"And like a lot of food," Mei added. "That's like three days of feasts, isn't it? The twenty-third, twenty-fourth, _and_ twenty-fifth?"

"It's a good thing we called you out early then," Cheng mentioned, "so that you could go back and celebrate with your family tonight."

The rest of the morning was spent finishing their hot pot until all six party members were stuffed. Even then, Mei had managed to scoop herself a helping of free ice cream. After witnessing the Taiwanese girl sharing her green tea flavoured ice cream with Lien, Kasem caved and ended up getting a bit of Thai tea ice cream as well. Unable to deal with watching his friends eat in front of him, Leon ended up doing the same thing as Mei. He wedged a serving of green tea ice cream between himself and Emil and handed the blond a silver spoon with the silent command of, "Shut up and eat. It's 'free.'" In other words, the Hongkonger meant, "We already paid thirty dollars for an all-you-can-eat hot pot and drinks, so we might as well eat some of the complementary ice cream." Emil couldn't disagree and ended up silently going along with the matter.

While everyone was eating their ice cream, Cheng gathered five dollars from everyone and headed towards the front counter to pay for their meal. Everyone else began to take out a couple of bills for the tip as well, around another five dollars each. Cheng chipped in his share once he returned back to the table. "Should we walk it off?" Mei suggested. "We could go shopping for some last minute presents?"

The six of them agreed and, after some debate, decided to head to Thirty-Fourth Street. Mei and Leon led the way, familiar with the area more than anyone else, with Lien, Cheng, and Kasem behind them. Emil was unceremoniously dragged along by Leon towards the station. After boarding the subway for around four stops, Mei and Leon assumed the lead once again—with Leon pulling Emil along. However, just as Herald Square began to come in sight, Leon slowed his pace so that the others were pulling away. Then, without further ado, they turned away from the others.

"What are you doing?" Emil demanded of his supposed friend.

Leon grinned back at his friend. "I told you that we would, like, sneak away, didn't I?" he retorted. "Come on! I mean, Mei was just going to drag you guys on her shopping adventures anyway!"

Feeling the phone in his back pocket vibrate, Emil pulled out his phone and skimmed through the text. "It's from Cheng," he announced.

"What does it say?"

 _Where are you two?_

"Nothing important," Emil replied shortly.

He followed Leon into the H&M on Thirty-Fourth Street and Seventh Avenue and into the men's department. Glancing around, Emil accidentally caught sight of some numbers and winced at the price tags. The dancer didn't seem to have a problem with anything though and easily browsed through the clothes. He brought up a collared blue shirt in front of Emil and said, "This suits you. If it was, like, a little more purple in hue, then it'd really bring our your eyes since you're already so pale."

"I don't know if that was a compliment," Emil retorted as he eyed the shirt. He stole a glimpse of the price tag and saw that it was slightly more bearable to study the fabric since it was only fifteen dollars in comparison to the forty dollar shirts he's noticed folded nicely on one of the shelves.

Leaving the shirt in Emil's hands, Leon marched over to another rack. "You like sweaters, right? How about, like, a new cardigan?" The Hongkonger held out a black long cardigan. "I think this one would accentuate your figure more."

"What figure?"

"You're skinny as fuck."

"Again, I don't know if you're complimenting me," Emil responded dryly. He glanced at the price tag and remarked, "That's practically thirty-five dollars of fabric, Leon! None of my cardigans are _that_ expensive!"

"You're right. That's why you need a more expensive one; you can't trust the quality of a twelve dollar cardigan, Ice," Leon muttered before pulling out another cardigan from the rack. Although still black in colour, it was shorter in length but cut differently. "How about this one? It's, like, knit with bouclé yarn or something and has a hood and shawl collar. It's practical, right?"

"How do you know this stuff?" Emil inquired of his friend exasperatedly. Leon was obviously trying to hide the price tag from him, so Emil reached into the rack and found the same styled cardigan. His eyes budged out of their sockets. "That's a fifty dollar cardigan, Leon. Just... no. There's not even any buttons!" His sweaters were warm, and that cardigan would do nothing for him but keep his arms cosy. That aside, another realisation dawned upon the Icelander. "How come you're looking for things that suit me anyway?"

"Christmas present," Leon answered shortly.

"No Christmas present from a friend should be fifty dollars' worth," Emil seethed. "Moreover, you're buying it in front of me?"

"Well, like, you're already here. It's a lot easier than having to imagine you in my head while picking things out," Leon reasoned. He smiled almost shyly— _almost_ because it was Leon who was hardly ever shy—and added, "Besides, like, I want to buy something for you. It's your first Christmas in America, too. It's like a way of saying that you've made it halfway through your first year here."

"We could... go somewhere else," Emil suggested quietly. "I'm not really comfortable looking at these kinds of clothes. Most everything is over twenty dollars."

Leon nearly laughed—nearly because he would be laughing at Emil and that would be rude—and remarked, "Good luck finding a place like that here."

The two of them high-tailed it out of the shop and instead found themselves in the men's section on the upper level of a two storey Forever 21, where they encountered Mei and Lien. Cheng and Kasem had apparently elected to drop by one of the three Staples stores in the area. Reunited momentarily with his fashionable friend, Leon and Mei had been exchanging advice and suggestions with Lien and Emil lingering in the background, idly browsing through whatever clothes rack they encountered. Leon left with a single plastic bag. When Emil had asked him what he had bought, Leon replied that he had been picking a couple of things off the sales rack. It seemed that he wasn't really worried because his _sifu_ was quite generous with his red envelopes on New Year's.

Disappearing behind Mei's back, the two of them slipped into a music shop** on Seventh Avenue to check out the equipment there. Upon entering, Emil made a beeline for the keyboards and began to fiddle with the different brands. Unlike the others who were playing mainstream pop music, Emil got quite a few stares for playing Chopin before mixing it up with the built-in features available on the keyboard that was set up.

Leon was browsing through the guitar guides before his eyes fell upon a familiar face printed on the cover page of one of the books. It was titled "DIY Guitar Lessons," and picking up the book, he stared a good while at the three young men printed on the front. It wasn't until he noticed the eyebrows on the bassist did he realise who it was, and promptly, he dropped the book. Then everything became clear.

Mathias had a mohawk, Gilbert had a collection of facial piercings, including a tongue piercing, and Arthur—his godfather and guardian—had hair that was greener than the Grinch that stole Christmas.

I didn't see that, Leon told himself before he backed away from the shelf, returning to Emil's side. Emil—dear, sweet, ignorant Emil—blinked and asked him, "Did you find something?"

"Nothing at all."

A few hours later, after exploring whatever caught their interest, Leon escorted Emil back to Mathias' apartment. Just as the blond was fiddling with the keys, the Hongkonger asked, "Will you be done with your family dinner by eight?"

"I don't think it'll take two hours for three people to eat—especially when two of the three are likely not to talk as much as the third," Emil replied as he inserted his key into the lock. "Why?" He twisted the key, turned the knob, and removed his key from the lock. He glanced behind him and saw that Leon was sending another text on his phone.

"I'll be back for you around, like, half eight, cool?" Leon offered half a smile to Emil and explained, "We'll finish this date properly since it's Christmas Eve, after all."

Emil was left wondering what exactly his friend had meant. It was only later, when he, his brother, and Mathias had gathered at the dinner table, did he realise what Leon was implying. Lukas had asked him how his day had gone, and Mathias was extremely curious why Emil had returned home smelling as though he's been near a gas stove. (The Icelander supposed the steam rising from the hot pot had rubbed onto his clothes and hair and promptly showered the moment he had returned.) After Lukas was wondering how his little brother had managed to assimilate into a group of Asian kids, Emil was reminded of his discussion of Christmas with his friends.

 _Did you know that Christmas Eve is a couples' holiday in Japan_?

Mei's inquiry rung soundly and clearly in the deep recesses of his mind, and no matter what happened at the dinner table—Mathias poking fun at Lukas, Lukas snapping sardonically at Mathias, Mathias getting his tie pulled, Lukas getting his buttons pressed—Emil couldn't get her voice out of his head.

A part of him thought that it made sense. It was Christmas Eve, and he had spent the day with Leon. Now Leon was planning to spend the night with him as well after an evening with his family. Then a part of him thought that he was being too hopeful because Leon and he were always approaching the line—a line that could ruin or change their dynamic entirely—but never crossed it. Why would this time be any different? Because it was Christmas?

With Leon, he wasn't friends. He wasn't anything beyond a friend either. They had a relationship that was purely platonic with mutual feelings and consent. Emil was satisfied with it... so why did he feel so miserable and empty with it now?

After pulling the short straw, Emil was forced to wash dishes while Lukas and Mathias put away the leftovers into the fridge. The Danish baker then informed the half-brothers that Berwald would be visiting tomorrow for Christmas with his spouse, their adopted child, and their dog. In return, Emil informed Mathias that he'd be hanging out with Leon later.

"You're pretty close with him now, huh?" Mathias mused. "Back in September, you'd deny even knowing the kid."

"He's in the same class," Emil retorted. "I can't avoid him if I'm forced to see him every day."

The grin on Mathias' lips said that wasn't quite what he had meant and that his nephew knew so as well. Still, he didn't push on the subject, knowing that Emil had a bit of a temper unnecessary for the festive spirit. Lukas, on the other hand, found nothing wrong with asking his younger brother, "So he's taking you out for another date after letting eat dinner with the family? Isn't he considerate? Remember to use protection, little brother."

Emil's cheeks were stained a deep red as he tensed. Refusing to face his brother, he scrubbed the dishes even harder. It didn't help that Lukas was sitting at the dining table and facing his back, watching him with his nonchalant gaze digging into his flesh. "We—We're not like that!" Emil protested heatedly. A part of him, without thinking, nearly spat out, "We haven't even properly kissed!" However, the platinum blond caught his tongue on time and refrained, choosing to purse his lips and glare at the plain dinnerware in his hands instead.

After he finished washing the dishes, Mathias pulled the brothers towards the Christmas tree and threw a couple of presents at them, demanding them to rip them open. Emil curiously unwrapped his gift, undoing the tape rather than shredding the paper like Mathias had done to his and Lukas' present to him, and pulled out a plastic box. Once the paper was completely removed, Emil nearly dropped it if it weren't for the fact that it was an expensive gift.

"I've noticed that you were using your ear-buds when you were practising for your piano recital last week during the night," Mathias explained, "or setting the speakers on your keyboard to a lower volume. I'm not sure what quality your ear-buds are, but they're probably the cheap ones you can buy at a convenience store rather than a proper electronics shop since I know you're stingy with money." The Dane smiled warmly at his nephew and said, "Just use these instead. They're not Beats, but I think they'll do. The shopkeeper let me try out different ones, and I liked these the best. The bass is nice, and you can still hear the high and mid as well. If you're not using them with your keyboard, you can use it with your new phone, too."

"Beats are overrated," Emil assured his uncle with a weak smile. Rather than uncharacteristically hugging the older man, he brought the plastic box holding a pair of over-the-ear stereo headphones in a matte white finish to his chest. "Thanks, Mathias."

He glanced over at his brother and saw that the twenty year old was holding a new violin case. Mathias promptly explained that his old one that was made of cloth was getting ripped and the hard case was getting scratched; plus, the locks were acting up weirdly. Lukas gave Mathias a wry smirk and teased, "What? So you _can_ choose a practical gift. I was half-expecting you to get me a dog named 'Emil Junior' to keep me company in the dorms."

"That makes it sound like it's my child," Emil muttered.

"With how your relationship with that boy is progressing, I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

"Ouch, Lukas, that stings," Mathias winced. Emil rolled his eyes in response. He didn't want a child—not now, probably not ever. The Icelander glanced over at Mathias, who had finally wrestled his gift out of the wrapping paper. "A Lego set of the Seattle Space Needle! How did you know I haven't done this one yet?"

Lukas nodded his head towards Mathias' glass display case, where he had Lego models of the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and the Empire State Building. Ever since the architectural series had been released, Mathias couldn't stop buying the sets and putting them together. "I don't know," he replied sarcastically. "We just took a guess."

"Thanks, you two!" Like an excited child, Mathias plopped down on the floor of his living room and began to open up the package. Lukas and Emil shot each other a relieved glance. The only time Mathias was ever quiet was when he was concentrating. It was a good choice. Next year, they'd have to find a new set to humour Mathias.

When the doorbell rang, Lukas shot up from his seat and marched the front door in long strides. Emil tried to quicken his pace so that he wouldn't have to deal with his brother's teasing—especially with Leon around—but lost by half a second. Lukas had already unlocked the door and greeted the Hongkonger, "Good evening, friend of my brother."

"Hello, brother of my friend."

Lukas glanced at Emil, who was silently pleading for him not to do anything outrageous, and, feeling a bit merciful tonight as part of the Christmas spirit, said to Leon, "I want him back by midnight and no later. Don't stay outside for too long and stick to crowds."

Leon nodded his head just as Lukas widened the door crack so that Emil could leave. Gathering his coat, keys, wallet, and phone, the platinum blond shuffled out of the apartment just in time to hear Lukas remind the two of them that they were still minors in America. Before Emil could retort, the door slammed in his face. His good mood depleted slightly as he asked Leon, "So? Where are we going?"

Leon was dressed in the same dark grey peacoat, but his attire had changed. Emil assumed that he probably showered after he had gotten home as well to wash off the smell of the soup and gas. He wore a pair of indigo jeans with combat boots laced up halfway to his knees as well as a white button shirt with a heavy red tie. A black scarf was draped around his neck, and a matching fedora was set atop his head, bringing the lighter tinge of his dark brown hair—slightly auburn underneath the light.

Emil, on the other hand, shrugged on his parka over a tan sweater. The rest of his outfit was rather plain compared to Leon—a pair of light blue jeans and brown workman boots—since he didn't think that they'd be going anywhere... fancy or romantic. That just wasn't Leon's style. The brunet was probably as far from romantic as he could be. He didn't like eating rich, expensive meals and preferred traditional Asian meals rather than delicacies—probably for the taste of nostalgia—and his idea of dinner and a movie was more like Chinese take-away or pizza delivery with horror flicks.

Now with Leon's dressier clothes—though still casual in that weird Asian way of his—Emil wasn't so sure.

The brunet stretched out his hand, offering it to Emil, and without any stroke of hesitation, the blond accepted it and was pulled along—right into Leon's pace. It was comfortable, still, so Emil didn't mind. He rather enjoyed it, honestly.

"Times Square," Leon answered shortly. "You haven't seen the lights yet."

Emil wanted to point out that even without seeing the Christmas lights, New York was bright enough anyway to make up for it. However, Mei's words still haunted him. Christmas Eve was a couples' holiday in Japan, but they weren't in Japan. They were in America, where Christmas is very much a familial holiday, but that didn't mean they couldn't celebrate it the Japanese way. Couples go out into the city, eat meals together, exchange presents, and look at lights.

He could cross two off that list. They had already gone into the city this morning, and now Leon was planning to show him the Christmas lights. Emil wondered briefly—just entertaining the thought—that Leon probably considered them a couple. The two of them were both poor with words, after all, and maybe they had already crossed the line between platonic friendship and romantic relationship.

It sure didn't feel like it though, Emil thought to himself. They were the same as ever.

LED lights were strewn throughout trees and around lamp posts. Several buildings were decorated in the holiday spirit, and—as Emil had expected—Times Square was bright enough even without the Christmas lights. He did find walking hand-in-hand with Leon quite enjoyable though, and a soft smile slipped upon his lips when he found some children squealing in delight at the sights and scenes.

Suddenly, he nearly tripped over his feet. Glancing towards Leon, he nearly asked his supposed what he was doing before noticing that his hand was shoved into the pocket of Leon's peacoat. "It's, like, warmer this way," Leon explained shortly. "Your hands are seriously cold."

They were pressed up to each other, arm against arm, and Emil's smile widened.

Maybe he could consider it—that Leon was thinking about them, too.

On the way to Central Park, the two of them slipped into a little bakery and café. Despite the European design, the fairly new establishment was run by Yao Wang, who had expanded his business beyond Chinatown, and a handful of Asian workers were present handling the few customers they had tonight. Most people were dining in restaurants or enjoying the lights. "You already had dinner, right?" Leon asked Emil.

"Yeah—with Lukas and Mathias."

"What about dessert?"

"None," Emil replied, eyeing his friend curiously.

Leon momentarily unlatched their hands—much to Emil's dismay—and stepped towards the counter to place an order on two milk teas and a strawberry shortcake around the size of a quarter of a typical nine-inch diameter round cake. They were served the cake immediately since all the employees had to do was fetch one from the display case, and Emil and Leon settled at a table with two forks.

Emil crossed another thing off Mei's list. They were sharing a Japanese "Christmas cake" in place of a meal. The blond watched in mild surprise as Leon began eating the strawberries first rather than the sponge cake. Smiling, Emil mused, "I didn't think you were the type to like strawberries."

"What's wrong with strawberries?" Leon returned almost indignantly—almost because he was still speaking in that deadpan of his. His expression contorted slightly and told Emil, "Some of them are sour rather than sweet."

So he prefers sweet things, Emil noted quietly. "Is this supposed to be... a date?"

"Leon?!" the server called for his name. The Hongkonger stood from his seat and motioned that he'd take a minute in order to retrieve their drinks. He returned to the table, handing Emil a milk tea and a straw to poke through the plastic covering, and to his seat across from the blond.

"It's a date," Leon confirmed. "I'm, like, continuing from earlier. Problem?"

Emil frowned and retorted, "I don't like that you're paying for everything. I'll pay you back for my drink."

"It's fine," Leon insisted. "I'm the one who dragged you out here anyway."

"Then I'll pay next time," Emil insisted. Leon's already paid for the majority of their meals together anyway when they were sharing rather than splitting the cheque.

Smiling and laughing silently, Leon conceded, "Okay, then next time."

There would be a next time, Emil thought contently. Before long, they were sipping their teas and fighting for the last piece of their cake. Leon made an abrupt, "Oh," as though he had just remembered something and reached into the pocket of his jacket. "I got you something."

Emil's cheeks flushed. "You're always buying things..." the blond mumbled, but he didn't have the heart to turn Leon away. A part of him reasoned that it meant that Leon had thought about him. The Hongkonger had even admitted to shopping for Emil before, envisioning how different items would look on him, and to an extent, it had flattered the Icelander. He was a bit shocked that it wasn't a huge gift bag or box though, and he figured that, if it was small enough to hide in Leon's pocket, it probably wasn't something expensive.

Unfortunately, he was quickly proven wrong.

Emil didn't know if he wanted to accept the velvet jewellery box in front of him. It wasn't small or bulky enough to be a ring, so it was either a necklace or a bracelet. Knowing that he was appearing rather rude, Emil reluctantly accepted the gift, and hesitantly, he opened the box.

On a twenty inch chain was a simple stainless steel ring engraved with Leon's in beautiful cursive script. He had half a mind to ask Leon what he was thinking, buying such an expensive gift, but the Hongkonger mentioned, "It's nothing that expensive. Besides, the jeweller was someone who owed me a solid anyway, so he gave me, like, a discount or a price cut." He unwrapped the scarf around his neck and reached into his shirt to pull out the same necklace and ring—only with Emil's name.

Gulping, Emil steeled his nerves and asked the brunet, "Leon... what exactly is our relationship?"

"What do you want it to be?" replied the East Asian teen.

"I... don't want it to be this vague... _thing_ we have going on," Emil responded as he clutched the edge of the box. "I don't want to kiss and hold hands and still tell other people that we're friends. It feels like I'm lying to their faces or to myself, and saying that we're just being ourselves feels like an excuse because it feels like we're dancing around the issue here. What do we have? Is it platonic? Or are we just goofing around?" _Because I can't take this as a joke any more_ , Emil seethed, _not when I'm starting to feel special, not when you're starting to feel special._

He raised his amethyst eyes and was stunned to witness the hurt crossing Leon's visage just briefly. Leon gave him a weak smile. "That's true. Like, we're not exactly friends, are we?" admitted the brunet with a casual—or appearing casual—shrug. His eyes hardened though, and his voice was cold when he added, "But I'm not just shitting around with you, Emil. That hurts—seriously."

Emil chewed on the inside of his cheek as panic began to struck and as anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach. "I know you aren't," Emil muttered. "You don't play around with feelings like that. It was stupid of me; I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Leon responded just as quietly, his voice losing some of that coldness. "I mean, like, I didn't really give you a reason to think otherwise. I just didn't know what to think either." He slumped in his chair and sighed heavily. "I guess the gig is up."

Eyeing him carefully, Emil inquired, "What do you mean?"

"You're special; at least to me, you are," Leon confessed. "I wasn't joking when I said that I wouldn't mind never getting a girlfriend with you around or vice-versa. I wasn't lying when I said that I've never been attracted to anyone before either—before meaning before I met you. I've said this before, but, like, I'd be lying if I said you weren't attractive because, to me, it's true. You're attractive, and you're cute. You're my type, really, and that's not a joke either. All those times I said you were pretty, I wasn't just saying it to play around either; I meant that, too.

"And when I said that it didn't sound bad to be a couple with you? It really didn't. I didn't mind the sound of it at all; in fact, it sounded appealing. But, like, I'm calculative, and, honestly, I just noticed it because it only happens when it comes to you." Leon nearly raked a hand through his hair but stopped when he realised that he was still wearing his fedora. "First, we held hands. Then we started to cuddle on the couch. We were okay with hugging. Kisses were okay, too. It was slow, and it was all experimental. I needed to gauge your reactions."

There was a moment of silence where Leon needed to gather the rest of his thoughts and where Emil allowed all that Leon had said to seep into his head. "Why?" the blond finally asked him.

"Why?" Leon repeated. He closed his eyes and thought a little more deeply before replying, "'Whatever will happen between us will be as it will be,' remember?" The brunet opened his eyes and sat upright with a soft smile directed only at Emil. "Do we stay as 'friends' or do we end up as a couple? I was... scared, I guess. I mean, how uncool would it be if I finally found someone I liked and found interesting and got rejected?"

"Our friendship was a pretence then," Emil concluded, feeling strangely empty inside.

"No," Leon argued, narrowing his eyes at Emil, "it was never a pretence. It was real. The moments I had with you were real, and this moment I have with you right now is just as real. I never wanted to _pretend_ to be your friend, Emil."

"Then... what will be of us?"

"What do you want?"

Emil frowned. "I asked you first," snapped the blond under his breath so that other people could just turn around and stay out of their damned business, "but if you insist on 'playing it safe,' then fine! I really hate you right now! You stretched it out for too long, idiot! I really liked you, and you just _had_ to pull this vague friendship card!" He caught himself before he went into Icelandic. "Then I think I might love you, but I'm stuck in this hole that we ended up digging together because I'm scared shitless about what you'd think of me!" He swore quietly and raised his eyes—only for his gaze to fall upon a grinning brunet. "What _now_?"

"I think I might love you, too, Ice," replied the Hongkonger with a shrug. Despite his act to remain casual and nonchalant, he was brimming with confidence. "You want to go out with me?"

"Fuck you, Leon," Emil muttered, "but, fine, _yes_. Just don't pull this aggravating shit on me again." He fingered the ring in the velvet box and, in spite of all the anger and frustration that had surged through him, smiled.

"Do you want me to help you put it on?" Leon asked.

"I can do it myself," Emil protested, yet he relented when Leon snatched the necklace from its cushion in the velvet box. He undid the clasp before leaning over the table. To help him, Emil leaned forward as well. Leon's hair brushed against his cheek, and his warmth and scent overwhelmed the blond as he nearly embraced Emil within the bakery and café. Once the necklace was clasped behind Emil's neck, the ring falling right between his collarbones, Leon withdrew.

"It looks good on you," Leon complimented. The shit-eating grin on his lips silently said, "It's to be expected since I picked it out for you."

Rolling his eyes, Emil turned away from Leon with a heavy flush on his cheeks, feeling greatly flustered in front of his new lover (and how he revelled in the sound of that!), before muttering, "I didn't even get you anything."

"How about a kiss?" Leon suggested without a single ounce of shame in his voice or expression.

Emil's cheeks darkened, the colour spreading to the rest of his face and the tip of his ears as well as the back of his neck. He quickly glanced around before, upon seeing that nobody was paying them any particular attention, quickly pecking the corner of Leon's lips.

Chuckling silently, the Hongkonger hummed and mused, "I guess, like, I could accept that for now."

Picking themselves together, they exited the bakery and café and headed towards Central Park for a round of ice skating. Emil was more than happy to find that he was better than Leon in another area aside from, obviously, piano, and Leon was more than happy to escort Emil home just as it was approaching eleven. Mathias might have wanted to play the overprotective dad, but Lukas—although he had approved of Leon and joined him in teasing Emil—was far more frightening when it came to his younger brother's well-being and safety.

Stopping in front of the apartment door, Emil shuffled in his pockets for his key. Not quite wanting to turn on his heel and leave just yet, Leon waited patiently until Emil slipped into Mathias' apartment, leaning on the wall opposite. The gifted necklace hung around Emil's neck, tucked safely under his shirt so that his brother wouldn't see it, and the faint hint of a silver chain glimmered underneath the lights of the corridor.

"Emil," Leon called out quietly.

"Hmm?"

Leon pulled on the blond's wrist and brought a hand behind the back of Emil's head, bending it down to cover the few centimetres between them, before locking their lips together. The blond was caught by surprise, and in the few seconds that he had began to realise what Leon was doing, he shifted so that they met at a better angle. His hands slipped from the door and the key and instead grasped at the fabric of Leon's coat.

Emil's lips were slightly chapped and dry from exposure to the cold weather outside, but he tasted faintly of sweet strawberries and tea. Leon rather liked it.

"How bold of you, friend of my brother."

"Lukas!" Emil cried immediately, pulling away from Leon a bit startled. A hot blush settled on his cheeks, and no matter what he did, he couldn't seem to rid himself of it.

Leon bowed his head slightly at the older brother and gave a wry smile. "With all due respect, I believe I've just ranked up, brother of my boyfriend."

"Leon!" Emil shrieked incredulously. He shoved Lukas lightly into the other side of the door frame and hissed a quick goodbye to his—and the thought made him blush a shade of red deeper—boyfriend, but before he could leave, Leon grabbed his hand and pulled him back to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Bye, Ice. I'll call you."

"O-Okay..."

Emil stared after Leon's back until he disappeared into the lift just down the corridor. Another realisation dawned upon him. The two of them have never kissed like that before.

* * *

 ** **A/N:****

Sorry for the trivia dump on how Asians celebrate Christmas (or don't, depending on how you look at it). I had to research a little more on how Emil would celebrate Christmas in Iceland though. I'm not sure if it's something that's actually done in Iceland since I've never been, and I don't have much of a reference aside from the internet. On the bright side, Emil and Leon are finally out of platonic limbo!

Also, the thing about addressing strangers as a sister or brother, etc. that Leon talks about is true to an extent. I've done it before when I go to restaurants, markets, bakeries, and other places. My elders and relatives do it as well, and so do my friends of Asian descent.

For instance, if you watch a Korean drama, sometimes strangers are called " _ahjussi_ " and " _ahjumma_ ," which could be used to refer to a blood-related uncle and aunt, respectively, or someone in their thirties from what I'm aware. Another example would be, in Japanese animes or mangas, you can hear other people being called " _oniisan_ ," " _oneesan_ ," " _ojisan_ ," " _obasan_ ," " _ojiisan_ ," and " _obaasan_ ," and it could refer to a family member (translated to "big brother," "big sister," "uncle," "aunt," "grandpa," and "grandma" in that order) or someone who appears to be in the appropriate age range.

Aside from Korean and Japanese, it's also common practice in Vietnamese, but there may be equivalents to English "mister," "miss," etc. in Mandarin. I'm not sure about Cantonese, but I think that in families that speak Cantonese you refer to a family member by a title and that it extends to strangers to establish age and status as well (meaning, similar to the earlier examples). Anyway, it's quite a difference than how you would address a stranger in most western languages. My non-Asian friends were quite surprised when I tried to explain this concept to them.

On another note, at the time I was writing this chapter, I really did go online and shop for things Leon would probably buy (for Emil). It was fun... except for the part where I had to deal with the reality of what remaining funds I have. The reason why I named both H&M and Forever 21 is because they are, in a sense, considered overseas/foreign _gyaru_ brands and have branches in Shibuya, Tokyo, as well, which is practically the mecca of all things _gyaru_. That is also is why I mentioned that Leon and Emil encountered Mei and Lien in F21. I consider Mei and Leon as _gyaru_ and _gyaruo_ respectively.

In canon, Taiwan shows interest in Japanese pop culture, including fashion. In this story, I thought that she would have something kind of like the _himekaji_ style—silk camis, mini skirts, lace and frills, for example—which is a toned down _himegyaru_ , the princess type that's not quite lolita but wears expensive brands like Liz Lisa, based off official art works.

Since Hong Kong also expresses some interest in fashion, I thought the style that might suit him well would be kind of an inclination towards the rocker or _"Amekaji"_ ("American Casual") sub-style of _gyaru-kei_ since he already speaks in a _gyaruo "_ dialect" in the original Japanese audio. Honestly, speaking as a _gyaru_ , I think he really is a _gyaruo_ because of his attitude, interests, and a couple of official artworks and strips from Himaruya.

 **Footnotes:**

* This hot pot restaurant is modelled after an actual one in Chinatown, but there's probably plenty of them to choose from.  
** I made up a music shop on Seventh Avenue; I'm not really sure if there is one there because I haven't found one that actually sells instruments and not just CDs and vinyl records.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: A Brand New Year**

Leon kept glancing down at his phone with a bit of a sigh. Tonight, he'd get off his shift at eight instead of eleven, the time Sifu favoured whenever he was on holidays, but it seemed that hour would never come. Upon noticing his obviousness, Mei sighed and leaned against the front counter, resting her elbows on the surface so that she wouldn't have to deal with Leon's miserable state. "Put away your phone, Leon," Mei remarked exasperatedly. "You only have two hours left, so just deal with it."

Much to Leon's chagrin, more customers kept flooding into the tea lounge instead of simply going to their New Year's parties and getting piss drunk. Little parties here and there ordered some bubble tea as well as popcorn chicken, garlic fries, fried kalamari rings, and spring rolls that Sifu bothered to put on the menu—sometimes a cake or some macarons on occasion. The chef and his assistant had a bit of a difficult time whenever large swarms of parties thought to come in and chill, and they were fortunate that they've yet to run out of ingredients. When the parties left, Leon was left with cleaning up their bloody mess since Mei was busy at the counter and their co-worker took charge of the drinks, and a part of him wondered if he had time for a quick shower before meeting up with Emil.

At the thought of his boyfriend—whoa, _boyfriend—_ a little fuzzy sensation accompanying the word kind of tickled his insides, but Leon kept that to himself—the Hongkonger sighed. He wasn't the sentimental sort, but this would be their first date as an official couple. Leon wasn't really sure about how to go about this "romantic" business, so he'll just have to wing it. Speaking of which, he still hadn't told Mei of the news yet, but, after glancing at the Taiwanese girl, he decided to keep it to himself for a little bit longer. He'll have Emil adjusted to his new role first, and then when they get back, they'll see if they can break the news to the others.

As he was picking up rubbish off the surface of another table, he found that someone had written on the back of their receipt. Much to his amusement, it was a cute little doodle of him in a fine black ink printed with ten digits in bubbly writing and a short but straightforward, "You're cute! Call me!" It was unfortunate that the doodle would have to go into the rubbish bin like most of his other "love notes," especially now that he wasn't single any more.

Before he crumpled the receipt paper, Leon considered briefly Emil's reaction. Despite his aloof exterior, Emil was a bit of a short-tempered, sharp-tongued sweetheart, but he couldn't seem to predict Emil's reaction. It was likely that the Icelander would be jealous, but it was also just as likely for him not to care—or to pretend not to care. Hopefully, the blond would know by now that he was the only one Leon found attractive. He's told Emil once or twice that he's never had a girlfriend before as well, and a boyfriend other than Emil was simply unthinkable, unimaginable, and, in conclusion, inconceivable.

Flinging the paper ball into a nearby rubbish bin, it rebounded off the wall and fell in with the rest of the garbage. Three cleaned tables later, followed by two parties, each with four or five persons, at the cash register and taking out the garbage to the back, Leon was changed back into his casual clothes. Abusing his free drinks privilege as an employee, Leon prepared himself a matcha milk tea and a milk tea for Emil in the kitchen before stepping into the front. He greeted his replacement casually and bid Mei a short goodbye, but once he made it to the front door, he nearly bumped into a familiar blond.

"What are you doing here?" Leon inquired of Emil as he handed the blond his milk tea. The taller boy accepted it with a bit of confusion and a short thanks. The two of them fell in step as they exited the tea lounge.

"You always pick me up," Emil pointed out, "so I thought I'd return the favour this time." That would explain why he was dressed up in casual gear with a backpack slung over his shoulder. Continuing in his nonchalant tone, he added, "You'd probably be too tired after work to head to my house just so we could go to yours and avoid Lukas."

Speaking of his older brother, the unsocial Norwegian had decided to stay home and play violin all day and night, so, with all of the extra background noise, Emil himself was unable to practise himself. Mathias was lucky enough to have an excuse to leave the apartment—work, naturally—so that left Emil to his devices until Leon got off work. Unable to wait any longer, the blond picked himself up and strolled to Leon's workplace, and if he was early, then he thought of buying them drinks for once.

Unfortunately, Leon covered the last part, but Emil didn't really mind. The two of them strolled back to Leon's place holding hands and sharing Leon's earphones, letting the sound of Japanese pop/rock and Chinese R&B filter out the city noise. Upon returning to the Kirkland residence, Leon explained that Alfred had disappeared for another party, and Arthur and Marianne were attending a soiree hosted by Arthur's company. His guardians had also rented a hotel suite for the night in case Arthur was too intoxicated to drive back—Marianne's words. Matthew had left the house in favour of hanging out with his closest friends, leaving it entirely empty for the night.

"I'm going to take a shower," Leon told Emil shortly once the two of them stepped into his room. With an expression of disdain, the brunet mumbled, "I smell so gross."

"You've been working since eleven in the morning," the blond remarked. "Of course you smell gross." Emil sat back down on Leon's bed, and Xiulan hopped onto his lap. He began to stroke her soft white fur to occupy himself. By now, Leon didn't even need to tell Emil to make himself comfortable; it was practically routine.

Once his boyfriend (Emil flushed a beet red at the realisation even though it's been nearly a week since they had gotten together) left for the bathroom, the blond reclined against the mattress, squirming when bundles of blankets pressed into his back. Leon hadn't bothered to make his bed again, but the Icelander wasn't surprised at all. The Hongkongese boy was the type to get up and move; Leon probably didn't even consider making his bed—much less think about how he didn't have time to make it.

By the time, Leon had come back wearing his lounging clothes—a pair of white joggers bunched underneath his knees and a baggy black t-shirt—with a cotton towel draped around his shoulders to prevent the drops of water from dripping down his hair, Emil was curled up with Xiulan. One hand was stroking the kitten's fur while the other was browsing through Tumblr on his phone. Leon sat down by Emil's head, and the blond promptly rested his head against Leon's thigh. He grunted and then mumbled a mild complaint, "Your thigh is rock hard."

"I work out—unlike you," Leon pointed out playfully. "On top of that, like, I'm a dancer and a martial artist. I mean, seriously, you can't expect me to have soft thighs like a girl."

"Fair enough," Emil replied shortly before he exited his web browser and locked his phone. Turning his head back to face Leon, he smiled lightly and asked, "So? What are we doing for our 'date'?" As far as Emil's concerned, they were simply lounging around in an empty house, but the fact that they were now a couple (it was foreign to his ears but delightful in all senses) kept him on edge for any significant change in their dynamic.

"Movie and dinner?" Leon suggested. "I went to buy some things for pasta yesterday, like, if you're down, but we could always whip up some fried rice or something from the fridge."

The words hit Emil gracelessly and tactlessly when he realised that Leon was practically being shy—practically because it was Leon and Leon was never shy—by bracing himself for a possible rejection. Emil wouldn't admit it aloud, but he was touched that Leon had thought about his interests and what he would like to do since the Hongkonger was usually taking the lead. "Dinner sounds good right now. I haven't eaten anything yet," the blond responded. "Mathias is usually in charge of the food." In other words, Emil didn't know how to cook, and Lukas had been useless.

Leon hummed and nodded his head in agreement. "So are you going to get off my lap?" he teased.

Emil frowned at the tone, not quite irritated but more or less flustered and embarrassed before sitting upright and scooping Xiulan into his arms. The kitten let out a quiet mewl, but she shifted around so that she was practically lying in Emil's hold. Leon chortled quietly and then got up so that Emil followed him into the kitchen. Upon reaching their destination, Xiulan leapt from Emil's arms to her food bowl, where Leon diligently refilled her dry food and water.

After they washed their hands and began gathering the necessary ingredients and utensils, their movements in the kitchen was like clockwork. Leon had assumed the charge since Emil didn't have much cooking experience, but Emil was more than happy to follow his instructions. The best part was that he wasn't as hopeless as Arthur—much to Leon's relief—and had managed to boil water, cook the noodles, and strain them without accident while Leon was preparing the tomato sauce. It was a recipe that had been gifted to Marianne through Feliciano, who had received it from his older brother, a former _chef de partie_ in Naples and, later in life, _sous-chef_ in Rome. According to Feliciano, his brother now owned a restaurant somewhere in New York. When Emil had glanced over the original recipe, not much had made sense with all the convoluted terms being used, but Leon managed to simplify the recipe so that it made more or less sense to him.

As long as it didn't taste bad, then it was fine with both of them.

After serving up a portion for the two of them to share, Emil and Leon retreated into the living room before surfing through Netflix using Alfred's account. "What does your brother do anyway?" inquired Emil as they settled on some psychological thriller flick that had decent ratings on Rotten Tomatoes. Emil wasn't sure what the title was since he didn't keep up with movies all that much, and Leon was more familiar with Asian films than American films. Neither of them watched TV shows that were airing either, so they couldn't really have a marathon of whatever is currently popular among their generation—not that they really cared or bothered.

"He works part-time at Gilbert's—Arthur's friend—auto-repair garage during the school year," Leon answered shortly, "but, like, in the summer, he usually finds a job as a lifeguard or something. It's why he got the basic package of all things, but it works out, I guess." It wasn't like Leon wasn't going to start paying to stream films and TV shows.

Instead of sitting on the couch, they sat on the floor in order to eat off the coffee table. Emil forked his noodles while Leon was eating with a pair of chopsticks. Apparently, Marianne had invested in a set so that her adopted son could cook and eat whatever he'd like whenever she wasn't cooking. The Hongkonger was truly spoilt in this household without even realising it; they even had a rice cooker. It was a Christmas gift from Yao a few years back, and Marianne had expressed to Emil once—when Leon was out of hearing range—that she actually enjoyed it when her adoptive son cooked little snacks and meals. The rice cooker was an excellent addition to the household kitchen, evidently. The Frenchwoman was even looking forward to when Leon learnt how to prepare meats and instead of simple dishes.

After finishing their meal, Leon dropped his head onto Emil's shoulder and remarked, "Hey, isn't this boring?"

"You're the one who wanted to watch it," pointed out the blond.

"It's boring though," Leon repeated. "I probably shouldn't have, like, listened to Alfred. He's probably jealous that I got a boyfriend before he did."

"Isn't Alfred straight?" Emil inquired curiously and bemusedly. Then a bigger realisation crossed his mind upon realising the implications behind Leon's words. "Did you tell him about us?"

A sense of fear and dread pooled in Emil's stomach, dragging him down like dead weight, when he realised that he wasn't ready to come out to Leon's parents. Telling Lukas and Mathias was a different matter. His older brother allegedly didn't care much for his romantic or sexual affairs so long as he wasn't hurt and used protection—a conversation Emil never cared to have—and Mathias was more than eager to be able to play the role of an overprotective parent.

Doubtless, Arthur and Marianne would most likely accept them seeing that they were both a part of the entertainment industry and fashion industry, respectively, but he was terrified if they began to treat him differently than usual—or worse, Leon. He wasn't sure how Alfred would take it either; on the other hand, Matthew would most likely be fine with it. Leon's _sifu_ , however, was an entirely different story from Emil's small family and Leon's immediate family considering that he was a bit conservative in his way of thinking. The elder thought of Leon as his own grandson and spoilt him more than Arthur or Marianne ever did. He wasn't ready to deal with Yao Wang especially, concerned with accusations of turning Leon gay or anything of the like.

"Like, not for Captain America, he isn't," the brunet mused. He took hold of Emil's hand and squeezed it lightly when he noticed that the other seemed to be frozen with terror and anxiety. "Don't worry about it, Ice. I didn't tell anyone anything, and what I said was a bit of an exaggeration. I'll tell them when you're ready."

If Emil was uncomfortable with it, then Leon wouldn't do anything that would jeopardise their relationship; he wouldn't even tell him that he was absolutely certain that his family already knew about them. His guardians weren't oblivious, after all, since they had bothered to leave Leon and Emil to themselves for some peace and quiet. Despite his attitude, Alfred was pretty bright as well, and Matthew had always been observant. He doubted Alfred would return until late into the night as well, and Matthew was most likely staying over his friend's place. There was most likely a ninety-nine percent chance that everyone already knew and was eagerly anticipating the news.

Emil nodded mutely, nevertheless, oblivious to what everyone was thinking.

"Do you want to see the ball drop in Times Square?" Leon asked his boyfriend. "It's probably crowded though, so, like, you probably wouldn't even be able to move through the crowd because it'd be totally dense."

The blond seemed to frown at the thought of a large crowd. He's never thought himself claustrophobic until he's moved to the city. Perhaps it was an overstatement though, but Emil has learnt that he doesn't feel as comfortable in a crowd. "We could just watch it on TV," suggested the blond. Leon seemed to sigh in relief as well—not wanting to be in an even more congested than usual Times Square any more than Emil—before pouting quietly at the loss of his pillow when Emil moved to clean up the plates just as the film ended. Leon reluctantly joined his boyfriend in washing their dishes before the three of them—Xiulan included—marched back upstairs.

As usual, Leon was quick to set up a console so that they would be able to play a multi-player game, and as usual, Emil could barely put up a fight against Leon despite the heavy coaching his boyfriend gave him. The blond surrendered and instead ended up watching Leon finish off a quest in a Hong Kong import of some Japanese role-playing game. He was caught between stroking Xiulan's fur (as the kitten had curled up to his side) and playing with Leon's hair now that the brunet made use of Emil's vacant lap—occasionally giving Leon little pointers to find quest items and such... not that the brunet really needed it since he was a better player than Emil.

In the middle of a character monologue, where the general spoke in Japanese with flowing English subtitles, Leon paused the game and switched the channel so that, as promised, Emil could watch the ball drop. Glancing at the clock, Emil found that it was nearly two minutes until the New Year.

"Hey, Emil," Leon called out to his boyfriend, his fingers intertwining with Emil's while they were combing through his hair, "do you like it here—in New York?"

Emil could have sworn they had this conversation before, and he wasn't sure what made the brunet ask such a question. However, peering into his caramel honey eyes, the blond was taken back by the seriousness in such a gaze. A smile graced Emil's lips as he realised that Leon was feeling a bit insecure as well and that this was a step to reconfirm the status of their relationship. It's only been a week, and it was a week where Leon was mostly working at the tea lounge and where Emil was mostly practising his piano skills. They hadn't seen each other much, and they hadn't had much of a conversation because Emil didn't like to be distracted while playing and because Leon was too tired once he had gone home from working late shifts.

"I like it here with you," Emil replied quietly. At the sound of his own words, the blond wished he had kept it to himself and immediately flushed in embarrassment at the sheer ridiculousness of what he had said.

Leon, though he was now smirking mischievously, chortled softly and responded, "Yeah, everything's better with you, Ice."

A minute had passed, and Leon was reaching for Emil's head. His hands cupped the sides of the Icelander's face and brought his head down gently. Emil followed his movement slowly, in tune with the counting of the crowd as they began from ten, and pressed their foreheads together upon reaching the number "five." Pools of caramelised honey, so warm, sugary and sweet, stared into deep amethyst depths that reflected light like quartz crystals.

 _Four_...

Emil closed his eyes and felt their noses brush lightly.

 _Three_...

Leon's breath was moist against his lips.

 _Two_...

They pressed together, gently and softly, basking in the innocent warmth.

 _One_...

Leon pulled away reluctantly and smiled at Emil—for once without mischievousness or maliciousness or anything of his impish nature—brown eyes gleaming with unabated delight. "Thanks for sticking around for the past five months," he whispered quietly even though nobody else was present. It was like he was unveiling a secret to the blond, and with how he was acting—so uncharacteristically Leon but so deeply in love—it might as well have been a secret. This was only between the two of them, after all, and nobody else had to know—not even Xiulan. "Happy New Year, Emil."

"It was a wonderful five months," Emil confessed just as softly, "even if you were a jerk."

Their lips met again in another chaste kiss that gradually grew more ravenous and passionate. Xiulan, sensing the shifting mood, leapt from the bed and coincidentally landed on the remote, turning off the television and the background noise—not that either boys noticed. The kitten slipped out of her master's room just as Leon began to sit upright. " _N_ _góh oi néih_ ," Leon whispered into Emil's ear as he ended up straddling the blond. His voice trembled, and his breath quivered against the shell of Emil's ear.

Leon was afraid.

Emil could feel it as he whispered that singular phrase over and over again in his ear as though it was an apology or an expression of gratitude. He's never heard Leon feel so deeply before, and out of graciousness, he ignored the warm drops that had splattered onto the fabric of his shirt atop his shoulder.

Leon was terrified of what he was feeling; he's never felt so strongly about something or someone before in his life. He was familiar with behaving himself and acting politely in order not to cause trouble for the people who've so kindly taken him into their family, but this selfishness was new to him. It was more possessive than anything he's ever felt before in his sixteen years of living, and it was more ravenous and lustful than anything he's ever experienced. He hungered even more for Emil—his voice, his touch, his lips, his beautiful, beautiful eyes—and wanted to exploit everything there was to the other teen—his shyness, his reserved nature, his sharp tongue and his loving words—so that he could horde every little detail to himself like a treasure.

It was so powerful in this one moment that he couldn't help but apologise for his selfishness and yet thank the blond for the experience at the same time. Saying it in English—when Emil would understand that Leon truly was bearing his heart and soul to him—was too much, too embarrassing, and it slipped out like an endless stream of anxiety in Cantonese. "I love you," Leon had said, over and over, and he was sure that Emil was confused by now. Still, he didn't care; he had to let the blond know somehow because of this new possessiveness and selfishness and greediness and lustfulness.

It was to let Emil know that Leon might hurt him one day, that he might make him cry, but that he would always love him and would always be thankful for this chance to be together.

"Leon," Emil whispered quietly, pressing a kiss against the brunet's neck. "Leon, I love you, too. I've loved you so much for the longest time, and I don't know if I could ever stop. It's scary."

His words were like a panacea that healed the agony in his lover's heart. Without further ado, Leon brought their lips together again, and the two of them moved as instincts and emotions dictated. The brunet pushed his lover down onto the mattress of his bed, and Emil reached out for Leon, pulling their bodies closer. The contact wasn't enough; they wanted to feel more—more of each other, more of the love they've finally been able to realise.

* * *

He was four years old again, and his mother had sent him into his room while they had a guest over. It wasn't the first time she had done this either. Normally, Xiao Chun would be allowed to stay with his mother and father when they were entertaining guests, but for some reason, it was only when this man—a grandfather with too many wrinkles on his forehead in Xiao Chun's opinion—came to visit that he was sent to his room. It was only with this visitor that his parents ever shouted either, and one particular exclamation always stood out from the rest, "If you abandoned me, then why can't you ever leave me and my family alone?"

There was a storm of footsteps, and Xiao Chun's door was thrown open. The grandfather with too many wrinkles glowered down upon Xiao Chun, who was huddled in a corner of his bed, back resting against a fluffy pillow, reading a picture book. Despite the stern countenance, however, there seemed to be a softness in his eyes that only the boy could see. At the time, he wasn't sure what that emotion was exactly, and perhaps it was because his memories altered it... but he was certain that the old man had one too many regrets in his lifetime.

"Please leave," his mother would say.

Without uttering a single thing in response, the old man turned on his heel and left the family of three to themselves for a moment of peace.

" _Leon_ ," a somewhat husky, somewhat hoarse voice that seemed to be having trouble speaking whispered into his ear, " _are you okay_?"

He wondered sometimes if he really was okay. He was happy with his new family. He was happy with his closest friends. He wasn't as happy at work, but he didn't hate it. He was more than happy with Emil as well. He wasn't sure how he felt about not knowing anything though and not remembering a single thing _that made sense_. They came in little chunks and pieces—sometimes even as thin as a sliver—and he wasn't really sure of what to think of them, what to make of them, what to do with them. If he couldn't even figure out his own past, what could he do about his own future? It was a little aggravating now that another year has passed, and he still was at a loss about, well, his own life. He was running out of time.

He only knew that he wanted to be with Emil for the rest of his life. He wasn't sure how he had even lived without the blond before they had met, and he wasn't willing to experience that ever again. Emil had wedged a way into his existence, and if he was to be removed, there would certainly be a scar left behind of him. However, he couldn't rely solely on the blond; he had to help support each other, after all. It would be hard to make a career out of dancing though.

His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself pressing Emil against his bare chest. The blond hadn't seemed to mind at all, but now that Leon was somewhat aware, his cheeks flushed a delicious red complementing the dark marks marring his pale skin at the nape of his neck, on his long arms, all over his torso, and even on his thighs and slender legs. His platinum blond hair, silver underneath the thin stream of moonlight, was somewhat tousled.

"You look good like that," Leon complimented offhandedly, earning himself a punch in the shoulder. He winced some because of the force behind the hit, but it wasn't the worst he's received. Pulling back Emil into his arms, their exposed bodies brushed against each other once again, and Leon relished in the warm heat radiating off his beloved. "You're gorgeous, Emil—and absolutely wonderful."

The blond seemed to make a point of not talking and glowered pointedly at Leon as though he was the cause... and he most likely was. The two of them seemed to be skipping a lot of steps thanks to Leon, but the brunet had merely shrugged and insisted on doing things at their own pace. They've practically had a five month relationship anyway. "I'll make you some tea," Leon told Emil.

He pressed a kiss against the top of Emil's head as just he nearly slipped out of his bed, but before he could leave the covers, Emil grabbed onto Leon's hand and pulled him back to leave a chaste kiss against the brunet's lips as an expression of gratitude. Leon smiled into the kiss and returned it briefly before slipping on his boxers and stepping into the corridor. Effortlessly gliding into the kitchen, Leon's brown eyes caught sight of his oldest brother.

"Dude, next time, you should close your door," Alfred remarked with a grin in between bites of his burger. The blond was dressed in the same state as Leon was—a simple pair of Captain America boxers—but was nowhere near the same mental state as the brunet.

"Did you see anything?" Leon asked his brother as he shuffled around the kitchen to retrieve a mug, a tea bag, and a kettle. He filled the kettle with water before setting it on the stove and switching it to medium heat.

While Leon was ripping open the tea bag and setting it inside the mug, Alfred swallowed his late night meal and replied, "Nah, it was too dark to see anything, but I could guess with all the clothes on the floor."

Stealing a glance at the wall clock—a quarter until three in the morning—the brunet asked of the older teen, "So, like, when did you get back?"

"Around two. I bought home some food because there was only chips and salsa and pizza at the party," Alfred answered. "Do you want some fries, bro? I bought a shit ton of burgers from the value menu, too, if you want some."

"I'm cool, thanks," Leon replied as he leaned against the counter, waiting for the water to boil. "So, like, how was the party?"

Leon waited until Alfred finished chewing—although, normally, the American didn't even bother, suggesting that he didn't really have the energy to "multi-task"—before the blond answered, "It was a'ight. There were some people asking for your number, by the way."

"And?"

"No worries, bro. I didn't tell them anything. You've got Emil, right?"

"I never said I did or didn't," Leon remarked.

"Your boyfriend makes it obvious. I'm pretty sure that anyone with eyes can see it; hell, the blind could probably even see it!"

After shutting off the stove and pouring the warmed water into the mug, Leon asked, "So Marianne, Arthur, and Matt aren't coming back until, like, eight...?"

"Eight in the morning for Mom and Dad," Alfred answered without having realised that the topic was being changed. He finished off another burger and tossed the wrapper into the nearby rubbish bin. He spoke while unwrapping another burger, "Mattie will be back later—around eleven, I guess—since he's chilling with his friends." Biting into his burger, he watched as Leon prepared the tea with a bit of lemon and honey before throwing away the brewed tea leaves into the rubbish bin. A devious grin crossed Alfred's lips as he began to tease his youngest brother, "Something wrong with Emil's throat?"

"Nothing's wrong with Emil's throat," Leon insisted with a bit of a smirk on his lips.

"If Mattie was here, he'd ask you if you were speeding through your relationship," Alfred remarked, "but, in my opinion, you guys have been dating for practically five months and acting like you've known each other for three years."

"Is there a problem?" responded the Hongkonger.

"Not at all," Alfred replied shortly, still wearing his shit-eating grin. He stuffed his face with the rest of his burger as Leon retreated back to his room with the warm mug of tea in his hands. "Goodnight, Leon!"

"Night, Alfred," Leon returned in a deadpan voice, dragging out the syllables like a monotonous song. He climbed up the stairs and shut the door to his bedroom behind him with a light kick of his feet. Switching on the desk lamp near his computer so not to disturb Emil with the brightness of the ceiling lights, the brunet sat at his bedside and handed Emil the mug of lightly sweetened herbal tea. When Emil sat upright, he winced a bit and scowled at the resultant smirk on his lover's lips. Stealing the mug away from Leon's hands, the blond blew at the steaming liquid gently before sipping cautiously at the brewed beverage.

Once he was done, Leon set the mug at his bedside table, shut off the desk lamp, and returned to bed with Emil in his arms.

* * *

Lured by the delightful smell of Marianne's crêpes, Leon and Emil had dragged themselves out of bed around half past nine in the morning to get dressed in Leon's lounge-wear and brush their teeth before climbing down the staircase and entering the joint kitchen and dining room. The Frenchwoman was busy at work, frying up crêpe after crêpe and laying them in a stack on a plate. Leon offered to wash and slice the fruits, much to her delight and relief, and Emil joined the brunet in helping the Frenchwoman in the kitchen.

"Where's Arthur?" Emil inquired shortly in the middle of washing some fresh strawberries.

"Nursing a hangover," Marianne replied with a bit of disdain. She sighed, however, and the distaste faded with her exhaled breath. "Not that I can blame him. The people with whom he works can be a bit... _insufferable_. I needed a few drinks myself."

Emil noted to himself never to become a music producer at a mainstream record company if he could help it. After Emil and Leon were done, they began to stuff the crêpes with lightly whipped cream and fruits, and Marianne joined them when she was done frying the last of her batch. They managed to prepare more than enough for the entire family, saving a few for Matthew when he returned, and Alfred was finally baited by the smell of food to wrestle himself out of sleep. Arthur came into the dining room a little bit later, exhausted and weary. Out of consideration, they ate breakfast quietly, and after helping clean up the table, Leon figured he had to answer the door when it rang—seeing that Arthur was completely out of commission and Alfred simply exclaimed, "Door!" much to the former's chagrin.

The brunet wiped his hands dry on a hand cloth while Marianne was still washing dishes, and Emil began to take over his place to dry them and place them into the cupboard. He strolled to the front entrance, dancing around Xiulan as she tried rubbing against his legs, and opened the door without so much a care in the world about who was on the other side. He blinked open meeting a pair of golden amber eyes staring curiously into his own.

"Xiao Chun?" His name was uttered quietly with a tone laced with astonishment and surprise. On the other hand, Leon couldn't help but think that he should have been the one who was astounded here, and the brunet was practically stunned into a silent stupor as it was that moment. He couldn't lie either and ask for the stranger's identity; he knew perfectly well whom the stranger at the front door was.

"How the hell does Wang Tai-Yang know my name?" Leon blurted out incredulously in Cantonese, stammering over his Mandarin.

The auburn haired triple-threat blinked confusedly at the dialect with which he was a bit unfamiliar, but the Taiwan-based entertainer seemed to make sense of what Leon said and grinned. "Is this how you greet your long lost relative after ten years?" returned the older man in Mandarin with a bit of amusement. He sounded a bit tired though—and relieved, definitely relieved—and his eyes seemed to glow with sheer joy and delight. When Leon was flabbergasted and unable to speak or make any sarcastic retort, Tai-Yang stated calmly, "We have a lot to discuss, Xiao Chun. Some of it is about your parents, some of it is about your grandfather, and most of it is about your future. Could you invite me inside?"

Leon wasn't sure if he should budge, and when Marianne left her kitchen to figure out why Leon was taking so long, the Frenchwoman stopped in her tracks upon sighting the Chinese man at her doorstep. The moment Leon stole a glance at his guardian, he found that her expression was a mixture of clouded emotions he couldn't quite read. "Tai-Yang," she greeted politely, "you really did come."

"I said so yesterday, yes?" replied the native Chinese man with an amicable smile on his lips in practised English. "I could not wait any longer."

"Where's Miss Honda?" inquired the Frenchwoman.

"She is on the phone in the car with her uncle, the CEO of Honda Agency," answered Tai-Yang. "I told her that she is welcome to join us shortly. How is Arthur? He never had the highest tolerance for alcohol."

"I'll manage," the Briton spoke from behind Marianne. He glanced over at Tai-Yang and nodded his head towards the living room. "What are you doing just standing there?"

As though sensing that there was a scene at the front entrance, Emil and Alfred gravitated towards the living room, but the two blonds froze immediately at the sight of Leon standing next to an older man who appeared to be his future self. They possessed the same almond shaped eyes, the same thick brows, and the same full lips; Leon's facial structure was only a bit more delicate as his cheeks still a bit rounded. No doubt, in perhaps ten years, Leon would resemble the stranger more closely. Sensing their shock, Arthur sighed and smiled wearily at his oldest son and at his guest, "Emil, I'm sorry about this, but I'm afraid you'll have to return home now."

Leon's brows furrowed as everyone could easily see through his lack of an attempt to hold a private discussion. "I'll walk him home then—" The brunet was interrupted when Arthur shook his head in protest.

"Alfred, could you see Emil to his home?"

The tallest blond in the room seemed about ready to argue about his right to be in on the family discussion if it weren't for his father's pointed glare in his direction. Deflating, Alfred mutely nodded his head. "Come on, Emil," Alfred addressed the younger boy. "Let's get your stuff and go."

As the stranger was invited into their home, Arthur asked Leon to prepare some tea as the adults settled themselves in the living room. Marianne and Arthur sat on the sofa, and Tai-Yang slipped into the armchair, where Arthur usually sat. Xiulan slipped into the living room curiously, but when her eyes met with Tai-Yang's, she retreated back up the stairs as though to seek someone else's company.

When Emil and Alfred climbed down the stairs, the former with a backpack hitched over his shoulder, Leon had returned from the kitchen and served three cups of tea to his guardians and the entertainer in their presence. He excused himself briefly to see Emil to the door, and before the blond could leave to follow after Alfred, Leon grabbed hold of his hand and whispered into his ear, "I'll call you later." His breath brushed against the shell of Emil's ear just as gently as his chaste kisses, and the taller boy did all he could to keep from shuddering at the tickling sensation travelling up and down his spine.

After responding to Leon with a nod, Emil slipped past the front door to join Alfred at the corner of the streets. Once the blond faded from his vision, Leon closed the door behind him quietly and reluctantly before rejoining his guardians on the sofa.

"Xiao Chun," Tai-Yang addressed him calmly, "how much do you know about your mother?"

Before he could continue any further, there were several knocks on the door, and Marianne excused herself politely in order to answer their new guest. Despite her absence, Tai-Yang's eyes were trained on him expectantly in search of an answer, and Leon hesitated before giving him a response, "Not that much. She was a singer, and my father was a pianist."

"She was wonderful singer," a man spoke in English that was heavily accented by a Chinese tongue, "and good niece—good daughter, but her father expects too much."

"Sifu!" Leon exclaimed in surprise at the same time as Tai-Yang cried, " _Bàba_!" The outburst had caught both of them by surprise, and Leon inquired of Tai-Yang, "He's your dad?" while the latter asked of the teen "He's your teacher?" simultaneously.

Yao raised an eyebrow and joined the others in the living room. He occupied the seat Marianne held previously, and the Frenchwoman instead leant against the arm of the sofa near her husband. "If you talk about family, I must join," remarked the elder. "I am Leon's _w_ _ài shū_ and Tai-Yang's _fùqīn_."

When Marianne glanced at Arthur for clarification, the blond answered softly, "Yao is Leon's maternal grand-uncle and Tai-Yang's father." Marianne nodded her head in response as it correlated with her previous knowledge about Chun-Yan's family tree.

"You knew?" Leon's voice was quiet, and his question was directed to his guardians.

"Yao wanted me to keep quiet about this," Arthur answered. "He wasn't on the greatest terms with your grandfather at the time, and he didn't want you to subject you to what your mother had undergone if you ever wanted to meet him."

Leon's brows furrowed together as he tried to make sense of the situation. "What do you mean by that?" questioned the brunet.

Tai-Yang replied this time, "Artistic suppression and discrimination. Your grandfather is a traditional musician, and he hated your mother for falling into Western music—pop and rock and such. He hated Arthur even more for being a 'bad influence,' and he loathed your father, who was a composer and pianist from Hong Kong. Your mother was disowned shortly after she eloped with your father, and had it not been for the fact that he disinherited his only daughter, he nearly disowned me using his authority as the head of the Wang household when I was scouted and accepted a job as a talent. You would have ended up being a combination of everything he couldn't tolerate."

"Not true!" Yao protested. He whacked Tai-Yang upside the head whilst muttering something like "stupid son!" under his breath in Mandarin. "He strict—but does not hate own grandson!"

Leon remained silent for the most part, unsure of where to go with this conversation from here. He nearly bit his tongue to refrain from asking anything, uncertain if he even wanted to know anything, but inquired of his relatives, "Where is he... where is my grandfather now?"

"He sick," replied Yao. He switched to Mandarin to better express himself, knowing that three of the four others would understand him and that Arthur wouldn't fail to translate for his wife, "He's more than ten years older than me, so his health is quite poor right now."

Tai-Yang cracked a grin and informed Leon in English, "He's receiving treatment in Boston, ironically enough, for someone who dislikes western culture so greatly."

"Are you taking me to see him?" Leon asked hesitantly.

"Only if you really want to," Tai-Yang assured. "He hasn't seen you since you were three or four, and that was the only time he's seen you."

"Then why are you here?" Leon fought himself to remain calm in order to suppress the simmering impatience building within him. He didn't know his parents, and he would never get to know them. He wasn't sure what his "uncle" was doing here and what the entertainer wanted from him nearly ten years later because, apparently, his grandfather thought of him as an abomination. There was no reason for Tai-Yang to be here when they lived separate lives.

There was a prevailing silence in the room that filled the empty room with tension so thick that everyone seemed to be stilled, suspending all animation. Arthur was first to break the cold ice walls built between them by a mere sigh. His green eyes trained on his adoptive son and charge as he asked the teen with all seriousness, "Leon, what do you want to do in the future?"

Leon suspected him of changing the topic, but when he saw that Arthur's eyes weren't faltering and that his guardian wasn't backing down, the brunet found himself admitting that he didn't know. He was already a junior, but he wasn't sure about his own future despite the fact that he would graduate next year. Arthur's eyes were still on him when he continued, "Tai-Yang has something to propose to you, so hear him out and consider it."

The Hongkonger turned his eyes to Tai-Yang, who shared the same expression as his guardian. "Leon, would you like to become my successor as a foreign talent?" the entertainer inquired of the brunet. The question stunned Leon into another stupor, and he was unable to make any sensible reply. "You would have to be based in Japan, of course, but with your knowledge of Mandarin and Cantonese, we could easily branch out into Taiwan and Hong Kong. In time, we could even enter the Korean pop scene."

"Why me?" blurted out the brunet in a bit of a panic, overwhelmed by the offer. He'd never really considered going into entertainment. He danced because he liked it; it was the unifying force between him and his friends. He sang and played guitar because it was at times relaxing, and he couldn't deny that he did like playing the piano—though not to the extent of Emil's passion. A part of him couldn't help but wonder if that was really okay... if he really was capable of succeeding one of Asia's biggest triple-threats.

"Your videos are all over YouTube and NicoNico Douga," Tai-Yang explained. "Since I'm currently based in Japan and Taiwan, it's hard for me not to notice when your views are constantly shooting up. I've been through auditions, but none of them had impacted me the way your videos have. I'm extending an offer to you that's valid for as long as I'm alive; I don't want anyone else to be my protégé."

When Leon glanced back at Arthur and Marianne, they didn't give him any feedback. This was entirely his choice. Yao, on the other hand, was scowling. "He should go to school, study, and get good job!" the Chinese man insisted.

" _Bàba_ ," Tai-Yang protested, "he's good at what he does. Show business practically flows through his blood. His mother was a singer, his father a pianist and composer, and his uncle—me—a singer, actor, and dancer. He was raised by Arthur, a former rock star and now a music producer, and Marianne, who used to be a soprano in French opera. Even his grandfatherwas a musician! With training, he could become even better!"

"But why Japan?" insisted Yao. "He could start in Taiwan or Hong Kong!"

"For more artistic freedom," Tai-Yang reasoned. "If he débuts under my name as my protégé, then he'll already get some recognition. Most foreign talents are TV personalities who sit and talk, anyway, and others are models. Leon would be trained to be a triple-threat."

"Foreign talent no different from panda," Yao grumbled.

"Pandas are cute and cuddly," Tai-Yang remarked. "Everyone loves pandas; even you love pandas, _Bàba_. They're to be admired behind glass and never touched but always spoilt with attention. That's no reason to object to this path; it's still a viable option."

"He too young!" Yao snapped.

"Most idols début at Leon's age, actually—around sixteen and seventeen, sometimes even younger!" Tai-Yang argued. He glanced back at Leon and added, "It'll be tough, but you can do it. You're my sister's child, after all. How about it? Would you like to come back to Japan with me?"

Leon swallowed the lump in his throat and struggled to reply.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Sorry it's been a while since I've updated! I've been busy with school and work and people! (I guess that's life in general...) I hope the HongIce fluff makes up for it because I'm really not sure when I can update again...

 _Wang Family Tree:_

First Generation – Yao (divorced) & Zhao (widower) – brothers

Second Generation – Chun-Yan (married to Li Xiao-Fan) & Tai-Yang – cousins; Chun-Yan is Zhao's daughter, and Tai-Yang is Yao's son

Third Generation – Li Xiao Chun (Leon Li-Kirkland)

外国人タレント ( _Gaikokujin Tarento_ ) – Foreign talents in Japan are basically people from other countries (America, Italy, England, France, etc.) who are scouted to live in Japan and just... be famous, I guess. They are often compared to pandas. Some may be television personalities, others may be models, and there are even chefs and singers.


End file.
